


Fallen Crows

by fell_on_black_days, Nithven



Series: The Crows of Sahriel [3]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Human Trafficking Mention, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, It gets dark yo, M/M, Non-Sexual Slavery, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Smut, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:48:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 46
Words: 58,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27091528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fell_on_black_days/pseuds/fell_on_black_days, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nithven/pseuds/Nithven
Summary: After becoming involved with who she thinks is a sweet shopkeep, Mystriss Layla finds out that she's fallen head over heals for an assassin. She wants to take him from his life of enslavement but an entire country and the crown stand in the way. In the meantime she has secrets of her own.Updated every week after our game on Sunday.
Relationships: Original D&D Character(s)/Original D&D Character(s), Original Male D&D Character(s)/Original Female D&D Character(s), Original Male D&D Character(s)/Original Male D&D Character(s)
Series: The Crows of Sahriel [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1977340
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. The Fourth Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After returning from the Feywild, Mystriss Layla Horthos has rekindled her relationship with the local general store owner, Widukind Fallenshot. Having unloaded a whole lot of heavy information on him during their last meeting, she just wants something simple. A date of dancing with a handsome, one-armed, half-elf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this before I learned of Widukind's backstory in game but my DM says it still works so here it is.

Mystriss left the group to their afternoon shenanigans and made her way over to the general store. As she walked, the nagging guilty thought she had been trying to ignore reared its ugly head again. Revealing her true form to Sylben had been semi-impulsive but he had finally seen through her disguise and recognized her as fae. There hadn’t really been a point to prolonging the lie, especially as he now seemed to be part of the group for the long term. She might have tried to sidestep his questioning longer but his eyes stopped her. Mystriss clenched a hand on the strap for her violin case in frustration. She should be over the resemblance already, and there was barely any in the first place, but the combination of green eyes and a blank mask… It allowed dark thoughts to cloud her mind.

_ It's not like it's on purpose _ , she reminded herself for the hundredth time.  _ Maybe I’m just feeling guilty about other things. _

As she turned onto the street where the general store was, she paused. She stared at the storefront from a distance for a moment as she tried to collect herself. Almost every time she had seen Widukind lately she had just unloaded information that she hadn’t intended to. Admittedly, he had been taking it all with astounding calm but she was afraid of that final step. Though her fear did war with the knowledge that he had waited for her for six months, worrying over where she went and had greeted her with such relief. It was one jumbled contradictory mess in her mind. It would be nice if for just one day, they could have time together without her backstory putting so much pressure on them. A simple afternoon spent helping around the shop and maybe some nice date time of dancing and dinner when the store closed. Widukind was a really good cook and she loved dancing. Hopefully she could talk him into it, he could be shy sometimes.

With a last sigh, Mystriss straightened her shoulders and walked with confidence into the general store. As the bell on the doorway chimed she heard Widukind’s voice from the back room. A moment later he came out balancing a heavy crate with his one good arm and leaning it back on his chest as he carried it to the counter.

“Be with you in just a mo- Oh hello it’s you!” He said as he gave her a wide, sweet smile. “What are you doing here?”

Mystriss hurried over to help steady his burden while he put it down as she answered happily, “I told you I would come help out when I can, though I do actually need to buy something as well. But really, I thought that when you close up for the day we could go on a date.”

Widukind shook his head ruefully. “First of all,” he said softly as he moved around the counter to stand closer to her. “You really don’t have to stay and ‘help out’ but I am happy to see you of course.” He slid his arm around her waist casually. Not quite a hug but a pleasant feeling all the same. “Secondly, whatever you need you can keep your money. I won’t take a single copper from you. And before you argue,” he shook his head at her attempting to interrupt him and continued, “I don’t want your money, just your company.” He stroked his thumb slightly against her hip where his hand rested and watched with a slightly smug smirk as her face took on a dazed look. “And lastly, what kind of date were you thinking of?”

She didn’t answer right away so he waited and watched the wheels struggle to turn behind her lovely emerald green eyes. “I-” Mystriss tried to form a proper sentence. How this scarred half-elf could turn her entire brain into a shower of feathers was baffling. She had to regain her footing somehow. She smiled sweetly and leaned into him ever so slightly. “Well, I was hoping we could go dancing somewhere?”

Widukind glanced away awkwardly. “I’m not a very good dancer, you know.”

“Nonsense,” Layla assured him. “I think you will be wonderful to dance with. It’s not like we’ll be in the royal banquet halls. Besides that’s just one part of what I was thinking.” She added, looking away coyly as she ran her hand along the counter. “We can drink if it will make you feel better about dancing. And If you indulge me, I might even cook for you this time.”

“You can cook?” he asked as she pulled away slowly to start unpacking the crate that he had brought out.

“A little bit, though it’s been a while.” She met his eyes one more time. “So?”

“Alright, sounds great.” Widukind smiled and barely had time to react as Layla swiftly kissed his cheek and returned to her assumed task of unpacking the crate onto the counter.

She carefully examined some of the jars to determine their contents, and even though she wasn’t looking at his face, she could sense his happy, dazed grin. Mystriss felt her own bit of smugness at succeeding in making him feel that feathery feeling as well. 

They soon settled into a surprisingly easy rhythm of store owner and helper. He wouldn’t let her work on organizing the records which was fine, she was happy with organizing the stock and dusting. She was in her simple, nondescript clothes, having changed into them before leaving the barn and had pulled up her hair into a ponytail. She didn’t want to be Mistress Layla here.

“Hey, Widukind?” she asked, slowly as she tried to figure out how to express her question.

“Hmm?” he replied as he scratched his quill across his ledger.

Mystriss opened her mouth but nothing came out. Widukind looked up at her with curiosity but just then the bell rang as a customer entered the store. The elderly woman started rattling off a list of items and Mystriss and Widukind rushed to gather her requests. Mystriss slipped into the back room and took a few seconds to berate herself for her cowardice. 

What she needed to do was so simple; ask him to call her Mystriss. It shouldn’t be such a big deal, her party called her Mistress. It didn’t matter that the two versions of her name were spelled differently. That was the point, after all. But she felt the need to clarify it to Widukind, who often referred to her as Layla when they were on their dates. She shook her head as she gathered several more various goods for the woman’s order, distantly hearing her chatting with the half-elven man.

“Who’s the girl, Widukind?” asked the elderly woman.

“Oh well that’s,” he began, clearly unsure how to answer. “That’s Layla, she’s just helping me out while she’s in town.”

“Oh?” she drew out with a teasing lilt. “That’s odd since you never let others help with this place. Must be some girl.”

Widukind coughed and called out, “You get everything back there, Layla?”

Mystriss, smoothed her goofy grin into a more mild but still open smile as she carried several items to the pile on the counter. She politely began wrapping the various items into easy to carry packages while Widukind attempted to distract the customer with various other idle talk about people they knew and how the yarn she had requested won’t arrive for another week. When the woman left, after several more not so subtle winks, Widukind ran a hand down his face with a groan.

“Sorry about that,” he said looking at her as she replaced a couple of rejected items into their proper bins on the shelves. “Old Agatha can be a bit much when she is on the scent of something gossip worthy. I’m actually surprised she didn’t recognize you.”

“Oh well,” Mystriss shrugged. “I am quite well versed in the art of disguise.” She mentally winced at that. Yet another half truth, half lie. 

“Tying your hair up is hardly a disguise. Besides, didn’t you sell me your disguise kit?” Widukind teased.

“I rarely need to use it,” Mystriss replied primly. “It’s only, and best, use for me was giving me an excuse to see you so I could ask you out.” She smirked at him. “I’m glad I don’t need the pretense now.”

He laughed and Mystriss felt it warm her chest. Eventually he asked, “You wanted to get something from the shop right? What was it?”

“I just need some paper to write out some letters. It won’t take me very long but it is some necessary prep work.”

“Sure, you can use the desk in the back room. I have a couple of orders to prepare for the evening but once they have been taken care of we can close the shop and go wherever you’d like.”

She smiled in thanks and spent the next hour and a half writing several letters and copying several of the poems from the terrible book of poetry, at the old desk in the back room. With her extensive knowledge of patronage papers, she knew exactly what font and filigree to use and as a way to maintain the perfection she needed to be believable Mystriss began humming. She often did this whenever she had a task to concentrate on, the tune shifting as much as a fall breeze changes by the minute. It didn’t matter what she hummed, the music constantly flowed through her blood and past her lips. It distantly registered in her mind that Widukind would pass too and fro between the front of the shop and the back but he didn’t interrupt her or try to see what she was writing. 

It was a pleasant way to spend a few hours and when she had finished the last letter, a particularly long letter to Lord Horthos, she sat back and stretched as she hummed the last few notes of an old Rexal classic. As she stretched, she noticed Widukind leaning against the doorway watching her with an odd, distant half smile on his face.

“What?” she asked.

He shook his head and straightened. “Nothing. Are you done writing? I just have to lock the doors. It’s a little earlier than I normally close up but,” he shrugged. “Well, it’s a special occasion.”

Mystriss nodded and packed up her letters and waited for him to lock the doors. Once he did, she linked a hand around his arm and began to calmly lead the way.

“So, I heard there was this neighborhood street fair going on not too far from here.” Mystriss told him. “I thought it would be fun. Food, games, drinking, if you want.”

“And dancing,” Widukind added, his tone skeptical about the idea.

“At least a little bit.” She smiled coyly until he sighed in acceptance before she changed the subject.

On their way to the fair they talked about many little things. Mystriss asked him about his childhood, making the argument that he knew almost every big thing about her, he could at least talk about that. Widukind talked, he seemed to worry that she might be bored by it but she wasn’t. She learned some more about his relationship with his half-brother; how they would fight as boys but came to an understanding in their teenage years and were now decently close. He told her some of his soldiering days, keeping to the lighter stories of company pranks and dumb missions that they had been on. When they reached the area where the street fair began they found a mead stall and looked for other interesting stalls as the sun set.

They found a dart throwing stall near the neighborhood square and had attempted a few rounds of that. Not too surprisingly, Widukind was rather good at darts and they had a healthy competition before he succeeded in winning a little stuffed griffon and gave it to her. Mystriss laughed happily and gave him the little bag of candies that was her second place prize.

For the next hour they drifted around the fair to whatever stall caught their fancy and continued sharing happy childhood memories. Every now and then they would be briefly stopped by some townsfolk who knew Widukind and a few curious people who wondered who the human woman with him was. Once again there was a guilty pause and he simply continued to introduce her as Layla. There was some curious verbal prodding but they managed to escape before the questions got too in depth. Eventually, they heard musicians start playing a dance set and there were cheers as several people cleared a space in the square for dancing. 

Mystriss looked at Widukind like an eager puppy and he gave a final sigh and resigned smile before allowing her to pull him into the dancing line. When the dancing began, Mystriss was delighted when Widukind was a competent dancer, if a bit stiff, and that he was missing an arm was not an impediment at all. She laughed with delight as they moved through the steps of the country dance and allowed her blush to fully form and she noticed that he finally relaxed and grinned in return. Dancing, spending time so simply as she had today, with him, it made her chest and mind fill with a light bubbly feeling. Something she hadn’t truly felt for years.

When the second song started and Widukind had made no move to get off the dancing ground, Mystriss winked at him. At that moment she heard a loud, familiar accented voice of a singular talking cow.

“Excuse me! But have you seen Mistress Layla around? Human woman with dark brown hair with a streak of white and green eyes.”

Mystriss looked around to see a growing crowd around Moolan off to one side of the square. Standing with her was Shion and Brysis was perched on top of the cow cleric looking around the square. Moolan seemed to be talking to one of the food vendors while the others looked over the heads of the swarm of children that had gathered around the talking cow.

Mystriss muttered a halfling curse which she was well versed in, even the voice she had heard it spoken in as was her habit. Widukind looked around when he noticed she had broken form in the dance and spotted her party just as Mystriss grabbed his hand.

“There she is!” Brysis called out pointing right at her.

Several other people shouted out, “It’s her it’s Mistress Layla! Play a song Mistress, please!”

“Run!” Mystriss told her partner and they ran off into a street on the opposite side of the square.

“After them!” Moolan called, letting out a war-moo. Suddenly the dancing music was drowned out by a cacophony of shouts for Mystriss and even some calling Widukind a “sly dog”.

“There’s too many people!” Widukind yelled over the noise. 

Mystriss looked around desperately for some way to escape and noticed a stall selling masks and little puppets. She grabbed a couple of random masks and shoved a few silvers into the owner’s hand before she drew Widukind close to her as the crowd approached.

“Stay close to me,” she whispered in his ear and felt the rumble of his reply as she looked over his shoulder and met the eyes of her companions. As a silvery blue smoke gathered quickly around their feet, she gave them a cheeky salute, saw Brysis curse and Shion’s eyes widened in realization as Mystriss used her cloak to teleport them two streets away.

This street was much quieter and though they did attract some attention from their abrupt appearance, Mystriss breathed a momentary sigh of relief. Widukind looked confused.

“I,” he began. “Didn’t know you could do that. What are they doing here? I thought you said they were staying in tonight?”

“That’s all they were talking about when I left! I don’t even know how they could have found us!” Mystriss shook her head and handed Widukind a mask and gave him an apologetic smile. “Come on we should try to get further away.” She sighed as she put on her mask, a green full face mask with silver embroidery winding all across it giving a very fae like appearance. “It’s a real shame.”

“What? “ he asked as they began walking briskly further away from the fair. He slid on his mask, this one was also a full face mask but half of it depicted the silvery moon and the other half was gold like the sun.

Mystriss leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “You are a wonderful dance partner. Just as I thought you’d be.” She kissed his mask with hers and laughed at the way his eyes lit up.

“I can’t believe you talked me into that.” His voice was wry but Mystriss could tell he was actually pleased with the experience as well.

“Thank you for suffering such a display for me.”

“And what is my reward?” He teased, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “Didn’t you offer to cook for me?”

“Ah yes,” Mystriss taped her chin with a finger as if thinking it over. “Did I mention that I only know how to cook breakfasts?”


	2. At Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After escaping from Mystriss' party, she and Widukind have a tender moment.

They’d finally gotten back to the shop after avoiding her party members, laughing most of the way. He tossed off the mask she’d handed him, a wide grin covering his face as he watched her remove hers. “I didn’t expect your friends to be so…”

“Obnoxious?” she offered.

“I was going to say tenacious, but if the shoe fits…” he chuckled.

“They mean well, they’re just a bit rambunctious.” She replied with a smile of her own. 

“I can see that.” He looked down at her, realizing just how close she was as she looked up at him, lashes fluttering as she blushed.

He shouldn’t have leaned down to kiss her. There were a million reasons not to. The fact that he was a Crow, that he knew he was bad for her, that he would only ever scare her away if she knew the truth. But his heart pushed aside his inhibitions as he leaned down to cup her cheek. That decision would change everything.

* * *

Widukind woke up just after dawn to a situation with which he was unaccustomed. He scrunched his nose at someone else’s hair moved underneath it and slowly blinked himself awake. The events of the night before came back to mind as he saw Layla’s sleeping form, curled against him with her back to his stomach. They’d fallen asleep almost fully clothed after their date at the festival and a small smile crept to his face as he thought of the intimacy of it all.

He heard sixth bell toll, telling him it was a tad earlier than he usually woke up, but he didn't mind. She shifted in her sleep, turning over to nuzzle into his chest, and he couldn’t resist the urge to reach forward and give her a gentle kiss. 

She stirred awake slowly before returning the kiss with an unfair amount of sweetness. He sighed into her lips as he forced himself to pull away before things could go further. “Good morning,” he said, leaning his forehead against hers.

She hummed in response as she buried her face in his chest. “Morning.”


	3. Myst's Side of the First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quick little point of view dive for Myst's side of that last chapter cus why not? Came from the prompt: Person A and Person B holding hands because there's a crowd but not letting go when they get out of it.

As they retreated from the street fair towards Widukind’s shop, they walked hand in hand. Myst was very glad that the mask she wore hid her blushes. They laughed and joked as they walked but Myst was always aware of the feel of the calluses on the half-elf’s hand and how perfectly his fingers fit between hers. Their hands didn’t part right up until he had to let go to unlock the shop door and Myst found she immediately missed the sensation.

They bantered for a moment, lamenting the interruption of her party when she found herself caught by his steel-blue eyes. It was a feeling she was beginning to be familiar with when it came to him, remembering the first time when he had come to her performance at the Deranged Barrel weeks/months before. She could feel her blush returning and then before she could blink or think, he leaned forward, gently cupping her cheek, and kissed her. It was a sweet kiss that lingered like he couldn’t resist and Myst couldn’t help but melt into it. Somehow, she found a distant, sighing thought wading through the feathers that was her mind.

_ This is so… nice. _


	4. Summary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just the basic rundown of events leading up to these stories of fluff and angst me and my DM wrote about these two idiots stumbling their way through life's problems. Please Enjoy!

While on a floating island that magically shifted them into the Feywild, the party met The Lady of the Summer Court who asked them questions about themselves and what their goals were. Some were blessed, some were Awakened, and some discovered where their enemies were to be found. Bryseis, our tiefling rogue, learned that the man who killed her baby brother when she was younger and tried to kill her, was now in the city of Cragas, the city we had left in the material plane. At the time she wouldn’t talk about it with the rest of the party but they did hear The Lady tell her that “the man you are looking for is in Cragas”. 

When we returned to the material plane, we realized we had been missing for six months and while dealing with the aftermath of that, we heard that there had been a series of attacks on nobles from a mysterious attacker, including a mass murder of an entire house of nobles, with seemingly no connections between them except that the killer could get in and out without any notice. The party inquires with the city Guard Captain Gunnvar, Widukind’s half-brother, and manages to get the current file on the attacks from him. With the promise that they don’t cause any more trouble for him. He also has a brief conversation with Mystriss about Widukind’s feelings. The party split off to do some investigating. 

Mystriss takes some time to check in with Widukind and continue their sprouting relationship. Then she puts on her best performance robes and goes with Xion the dragonborn fighter to try and listen in on conversations at one of the fancier taverns in the noble district. They don’t learn much of particular interest but do get to mess with some uppity nobles and enjoy fancy desserts and wine by pulling a slight Ferris Bueler to insert herself as the night’s musical entertainer. Bryseis disappears without the party noticing only to return later covered in bruises and cuts like she’d been in a fight. All she would tell the others is that she was confirming that the man she was looking for was indeed in town.

The party spend the next few days shopping and doing various kinds of research, helping Geoff discover the truths of his lineage, as they try to make a plan to lure this noble attacker out as a group. Myst goes on a date with Widukind and the party causes chaos to interrupt it, for fun. Then as they begin the day getting ready to go to the noble district to pretend to be nobles, there is an explosion in the noble district and the city bells call for the guards and for people to stay inside. The party rushes to the scene despite guards along the way telling them to turn around.

They find the center of the crisis is a noble estate blown apart and on fire. There are guards and healers tending to the injured and trying to put out the fire with little success, helmed by Gunnvar. He tried to direct them away when they heard someone screaming from beyond the fire. Geoff and Bryseis rush inside and Mystriss follows them after drenching her cloak in a well and throwing it over her and Rhea who is also in her sling on her chest. Gunnvar protests but can’t stop them.

The three of them follow the screams past the flaming ruins of the house to the garden shed behind it and find a tiefling man trapped under a beam as the shed is burning around him. Bryseis and Geoff try to lift the beam and pull him out but it is taking too long and the doorway to the shed is about to collapse when Mystriss summons magical vines to grow and wrap around the frame to strengthen it enough so the others can get the tiefling out. Once done, Mystriss uses her cloak of the Mountebank to get her and the injured tiefling back outside to safety and proper healing. Gunnvar admonishes Mystriss for running into a burning building with her baby gryffon but is glad they could save somebody. Geoff and Bryseis manage to get out of the fire with a few minor burns and they rush the survivor to the temple where the other many injured are also being treated. 

The injured tiefling is rushed to the emergency surgery room and those in the party who can heal quickly join the ranks of healers tending to the general wounded for the rest of the day and late into the night. Retiring only when there is nothing more to do and they are too exhausted. The next day they are summoned to the Guard Hall to meet with Gunnvar when he has them wait in an unused store room and before he explains he uses a warding stone to block out any attempts to hear what is said in the room. He makes them swear to secrecy and then there is a knock at the door and he opens it. 

In walks Widukind.

When the door closes, the ward reset, Widukind drops his disguise self and reveals he is wearing full studded armor and he has a tattoo of a black crow with black filigree framing it at the base of the left side of his neck. Gunnvar explains that Widukind is the spymaster for Cragas and has been undercover for several years and was raised in a group called the Crows, who are assassins and spies for the crown. Mystriss is silent through this conversation and just stares at Widukind as he and his half-brother explain that they were on the trail of the mystery attacker for a while and had already discovered who he was and what he now might be after. 

It is revealed that he is the disowned hair to the noble family whose house was the center of the explosion. He had been disowned many years ago for having an affair with a tiefling woman who had two children and after going missing for some time he returned to try and reclaim his birthright and was refused. Turns out he is actually Bryseis’ father and he is the real man who murdered her brother right in front of her and then tried to kill her but she slipped away in time. They apparently also discovered his hideout and found a book that is a magical pact for some kind of fiend and it looks like it has been used. Gunnvar explains that they think he may try to come after Bryseis and it will probably be during an award ceremony the city is going to perform because of the party’s assistance during the crisis. It is a very public ceremony and it is tradition for no one to have armor or weapons during it. 

Because of Widukind and Mystriss’ relationship they didn’t want this to go down without the party being aware of the full situation and were able to tell them the truth about Widukind’s position. Also, their awareness will mean extra eyes peeled for Bryseis’ father.

After these revelations, Widukind and Mystriss agree to meet later for a private talk after the party has had a chance to discuss what precautions they can take.Widukind also gives Bryseis a locket they found in her father’s hideout, it has a picture of baby Bryseis. Mystriss and Bryseis go to visit the tiefling they saved and discover that he is her grandfather on her mother’s side and he was the gardener on the family estate. He is sweet and friendly and gives her a letter he received from her mother.

After they leave, Mystriss comfort’s Bryseis saying that if she doesn’t want her real family, she can think of the party as the beginnings of one instead. Found families are just as nice. Then, Mystriss leaves the party to go to Widukind’s store for their private talk.


	5. Explanation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm Fell-on-black-days and I DM for this crazy group. Widukind is pronounced "Vid-uh-kend" and non-English terms are in Gaelic for your reference.

Widukind sighed as he left the store room. Revealing his secret to Layla and her party had been nerve wracking to say the least and what she’d said to him? “We need to talk later.” What exactly did that mean? How much of his life was going to change after this?

His thoughts spiraled down as he left the guard station and ventured into the warf. He had several appointments with an underworld contact that refused to meet with anyone else. It was shady to say the least but if it gave them even a slight edge in the coming days that’s all that would matter.  _ She  _ was the only thing that mattered. Keeping her safe. Even if she hated him. Even if she… never wanted to see him again.  _ I’m in deep _ , he thought as he noticed his contact signaling him down.

The human woman sat on a barrel in an overcast area of the docks, examining her freakishly sharp nails as the hawk on her shoulder glared at passersby. “Shae,” he said as he crossed his arms. “What have you got for me today?”

The blonde looked up with her tawny eyes and snorted, “Nice to see you too Widu-dick. How’s the weather? The folks doin’ okay?”

He rolled his eyes before glaring back at her, “I’m not in the fecking mood today. What. Do. You. Have?” 

She let out a sigh as she hopped off the barrel, motioning for him to follow. Her bird continued the glare on her behalf as they walked further into a nearby alley and she drew aside a tarp. Under it was a small crate with several items on display. “The usual with a few bonuses,” she said, tossing her long hair back. “Couple of smoke grenades, a few pyrotechnics, and this little baby.” She held up the final item, a blue sphere with crackling bits of electricity flashing against the glass. “Lightning sphere, picked it up south of Lake Nymib.” 

He gave her a look as he perused, aware that she’d drive up the price of whatever he chose just to get back at him for his earlier indifference. “Let’s say the sphere for our usual rate and I’ll conveniently ‘forget’ about the rest.”

“HA! That’s cute Widu-cheeks. This would easily cost you your other arm.”

“Take it or leave it Shae. It’s that or nothing and I hear customs are going to get tighter after yesterday’s… incident.” He pressed his lips into a thin line as she mulled it over.

“Fine, but you’ll owe me,” she spat.

“Sure. By the way, when can I collect on the last six shipments you tried to hide from me? Or should I just let the guard-”

“Ugh! Fine take it for the regular fee and no more! Then leave me to do my business or I’ll let Prometheus nibble on those pointy ears of yours.”

He tossed her a pouch of coin and pocketed the sphere, walking away to trudge back to the shop. Why the smuggler refused to meet with a different agent was a damn mystery. They’d hated each other at first sight.

He climbed his way back to the heights, mulling over everything and nothing at once. He made it back to the shop just as his magical appearance began to fade and collapsed into bed to rest his eyes.  _ Just a moment’s sleep. Maybe I’ll get through it without having to dream this time. _

What felt like a brief pause later he startled awake as Layla called his name from the bedroom door. He cursed as he noticed the time and told her he’d be in the kitchen momentarily. Shedding his armor, he grabbed a normal pair of clothes sans jacket and slipped his boots on as he walked downstairs. 

She was sitting there, fidgeting as she waited. He sighed and looked at her before speaking. “Hey.”

“Hi.” she said back, eyes fluttering in agitation.

“So…” He said as he rubbed his still visible tattoo. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

She thought for a moment before responding, “I’m not angry. I mean… I was a little shocked but-” she trailed off as she looked back at him. 

He let out a shaky sigh. “What do you want to know?”

“Can you… leave? If you wanted to?”

“I…” he sighed and rubbed his eyes, “No. The tattoos we have, they’re enchanted. We can’t disobey orders.”  
“What happens if you do?” she asked.

He winced at the memory that bubbled up with her question, “Extreme pain. Dying in agony if we resist for too long.”

Her face twisted in shock as she processed his situation before recovering. “How long have you been a Crow?”

“I was born into it. My mother was one too. She…” he took another deep breath, “She and Gunnvar’s father were... colleagues. They became involved despite regulation.”

“She didn’t raise you?”

“She… died when I was four months old. I don’t really know what she would have done.” He leaned against the doorframe as if it could offer him more than just physical support. “I started training as soon as I could walk. Lord Lunahand couldn’t take me in, even as his bastard. Crows aren’t allowed to have children. Or be in relationships really.” 

He had to break eye contact with her as he said that, so he didn’t see her eyes flash with hurt as she asked what came next. “So, do you want to stop seeing each other?”

His eyes whipped back to hers as he panicked. “NO! Gods no. That is… if you want to still…”

She stopped him with a shake of her head, “I do, but… you’re not the only one who’s been keeping secrets. I’m…” She drifted off, seemingly afraid of what she was about to say. Little did she know he already knew her secrets.

“A changeling?” he said. He had never been fazed by that particular fact.

“You knew?!” she said, nearly shouting.

He chuckled a little. “I’m a spymaster. It’s pretty easy to have agents keep track of new arrivals to the city, mo chroí.” He froze as he realized what he’d called her, praying that she didn’t know Elvish or, if she did, that she wasn’t paying much attention. “Feck. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-” 

His words died as she kissed him, pressing him into the doorframe as she gripped his shirt. For a split second he was surprised, then he melted into her. His hand swept up to cup her cheek as he kissed her back. They stood there for several moments, exploring each other’s mouths, before he broke off with a pant. “I… wait here for a moment.” he said as he turned to rush upstairs. He raced to his bedroom and pulled up the hidden compartment beneath his bed to grab out a pair of sending stones. He hadn’t used them for over a decade but he figured the previous owner wouldn’t find an issue. 

Returning to the kitchen he held one out to her. “Here. It’s not much but… If you ever need me.” She took it slightly puzzled before she realized what it was. “If I can’t be there,” he said, eyes taking on weight to match his tone, “I’ll send someone who can. Layla I-”

“Myst,” she said. “My real name is Mystriss.”

He smiled softly, “It’s a beautiful name.”

She looked back at him with a wide grin before looking back at the stone he’d given her, “I was actually commissioning something like this.”

He chuckled remembering the conversation he’d had with Warren the other day. “I heard. Warren can get pretty excited about custom orders.” They both laughed as he rested his forehead against hers.

She looked out the window and seemed to realize the hour as she said, “I’d better get back to the inn.” Her eyes widened for a moment, “Wait! What am supposed to do with Rhea at the ceremony? I don’t want her on stage but we decided to call ourselves the Order of the Griffin.”

He raised his brow at her worry, “I think I can handle a baby griffin for an hour or so. It’ll keep her out of danger at least.”

“Thank the gods,” she said as tension drained from her body. “I should go back and let everyone know that that’s the plan.”

She began to walk by but he reached out to stop her. “You know… there’s another full day before everything goes down.” His eyes traced her curves as he looked her up and down. “You  _ could _ stay the night.” He gave her a wry grin as she took a moment to process. She smiled back at him and pulled him into another, much more passionate, kiss.


	6. The First Night

Widukind tugged Layla, no - Myst, into his chest as he backed down the hallway. Her lips were soft as he kissed her and she tasted sweet like honey as his tongue made its way behind them. Part of him couldn’t believe she was still here, that they were actually doing this after all she’d learned. But a larger, more insistent part of him demanded he devote all of his attention to her in that moment.

He felt her breath catch as his hand fell down to brush her hip and had to fight the urge to strip her then and there. He wanted to know what sounds she made, where she wanted to be touched, how she tasted as he pleasured her sex. Everything about her was intoxicating. Unfortunately there was a set of stairs in the way. Damn him for having a second floor bedroom. 

As his heel struck the first step he shifted his shortened limb to brace her back and gripped her ass to coax her legs around his waist. He absolutely refused to stop kissing her before they got to his bed.

Her hands laced behind his neck as her thighs squeezed in, making him moan into her mouth. As he reached the top step he refused to put her down, opting to leave open kisses down her jaw and neck, gently nipping as he went. She let out a sinful moan as he walked them to his room, thankful that he’d left the door open when he joined her in the kitchen.

He felt her hands slip under his shirt as he set her down, tracing his abs and pecs as she lifted it over his head, forcing him to pause his kisses. He felt her mouth latch onto his side before he got the shirt entirely off and moaned as she began to bite and suck, marking him as hers. “That’s not feckin’ fair,” he hissed as she grinned into the bite. His hand gripped the hair at her nape as she let go with an audible pop and tugged her head back to catch her in another forceful kiss. His fingers traced up her blouse to the first of its buttons and he broke off from her to curse the absurd amount and tightness of the tiny baubles. 

She let out a giggle before twisting to pull him down on the bed. Before he could react she straddled him, inadvertently grinding against his erection through his trousers. “Let me…” she said before pausing to blush and bite her lip as she slowly undid each button.

His hand crept under the fabric as it loosened, tracing her curves over her camisole before brushing his thumb across her breast. Her eyes flickered closed with a gasp as her mouth formed a little “o” and encouraged him to press up with his right arm so his mouth could reach her collar. He helped her shrug out of the top layer as his hand slid back down to tease the bare skin at her waist. He took mental note of every little shiver and gasp she made as his fingers edged beneath her waistband, teasing the soft skin of her hip. 

“You’re wearing too much,” he said as he took a breath and continued his line of kisses.

“I could say the same of- ah- of you,” she whined. 

“All in good time, mo chroí. I want to hear you when you cum first.” He felt a shudder run down her spine at his words, taking it as his cue to unlace her pants as she kicked off her boots. He rolled his hips to turn them over, pressing her back into the mattress as he slowly pulled her breaches down her hips, kissing her thighs as he did. She reached down to help him but he nudged her hand away with his right arm before looking her in the eyes and saying “Let me take care of you mo chroí.” 

She nodded as she bit her lip again, her hands coming to rest on the pillow over her splayed hair. He kept his eyes locked on her as he continued to pull her pants off, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. Her eyes drifted closed as the pleasure began to hit and may have remained that way had he not latched onto her inner thigh, biting and sucking to leave a mark of his own. When his teeth nipped in her eyes shot open and her hand reached down to knot into his hair, pulling on his scalp as if to say “more”. He separated his mouth from her skin with a wet “pop” and groaned into her touch.

He crawled back up to kiss her and had to stop her from turning them back over. He nipped her ear before saying, “I’m not done with you yet, love.” He let her guide his hand under her camisole and up to her breasts where he promptly began to squeeze and kneed into her soft flesh. 

She rewarded him with a moan before crying out. “Wid-Widukind! I want…”

He let her push him into a kneeling position as she stripped off her camisole leaving him to whisper in her ear. “What is it, mo chroí? Tell me.” 

She gripped his hair again and pushed his lips further south, coaxing him to nip and suck at her breast, panting all the way. His hand drifted lower as his fingers brushed against her smalls, feeling the soft lace before slowly prying underneath. He stopped his ministrations for a moment as he looked back at her and asked, “Is this okay? Do you want me to stop?” She shook her head causing him to growl in frustration and say, “You have to say it, mo chroí. Do you want me to touch you?”

“Yes! Gods, yes Widukind! I want you to touch me!” she whined, surging forward to kiss him. With such enthusiastic permission, he let out another growl as his fingers crept lower, tracing the edge of her lips and feeling just how wet she’d become. He took no small amount of pride at realizing that her smalls were soaked through. 

Just as he had with her pants, he began to tug them down her thighs. This time, however, he was met with resistance when they snagged on her hip. She had begun to reach down to assist when he growled in frustration and opted to use his teeth to tear the delicate fabric. She let out a startled squeak as he tossed them to the side and looked back up at her with a smoldering grin, beyond pleased that he’d surprised her. 

She had just begun to recover and protest the expense he caused when his mouth centered on her delicate bud and began to suck. Her words died in her throat as her head hit the pillow and her back arched, giving him a splendid view of her chest. He stopped for a moment to say “I’ll buy you more,” before nipping the thigh he hadn’t marked and pressing his thumb to her clit. 

“I’m going to- ha- hold you to that,” she said as he marked her again. In response he pressed a single finger into her entrance, stroking and curling it slowly up and towards himself. The moan she let out caused his member to twitch and test his force of will. Gods he wanted to feel her around him. But he would be remiss to do so without bringing her to completion at least once before then.

He paused to look back at her and say “If you want a break or need something don’t be afraid to tell me.” He watched her nod in response before sucking on her bud again and pressing his finger back in.

She wasn’t shy with what she wanted either. “Gods… Just a little to the… oh fuck yes!” she cried as he found her sweet spot. He added another finger as she loosened further, pumping her and tasting more of her juices as her pleasure continued to build. He had just pressed a third finger in when her cries began to escalate and her back began to arch more severely.

“Widukind! I’m going to-” Her pleasure cut her off as she clamped down around his hand, her cries making him want to take her that moment. He released her and gently peppered her with kisses as she came down, letting her regain some semblance of focus. 

She took a moment to breathe before looking him dead and the eyes and saying “Pants. Off. Now,” as she rolled him over onto his back. His eyes widened as he scrambled to comply with her demand, kicking them and his smalls off to the side as her hand reached down to stroke his member. His head snapped back as he let out an obscene groan and he had almost regained his senses when he saw her position herself above him and sink down.

He almost came then and there, unprepared for how perfect her walls felt around him, but held on through sheer will. She gave him a moment before reaching down to pull him towards her in a sitting position. He propped his right arm up to support them as his hand cupped her cheek to pull her into a sloppy kiss as she began to rock against him. He felt her twitch around him as he grazed her sensitive spot and couldn’t resist the urge to flip her over beneath him. How he did it without leaving her, he had no idea, but he was determined to continue pleasuring her for as long as she would allow. 

He marked her neck at least twice as he began to swivel his hips in an attempt to swipe across that spot again. Whatever he managed worked as she screamed his name and began to tighten around him. He continued to rock into her as she came again, barely holding on to his own response and wanting to drag out her pleasure for as long as possible. He maneuvered his hand beneath her head to tug at her hair and provide a little more support as he picked up the pace. Her sensitive body continued to respond as she hooked her heels around his back and met each thrust with one of her own. 

He felt her walls begin to quiver again and moved his mouth back up to recapture her lips in a bruising kiss before panting out, “Where do you want me to-”

She cut him off with a kiss of her own before groaning, “I don’t care. Don’t you dare stop.” He drove into her for a few more thrusts before she clamped down again, bringing him over the edge with her.

He gave a few more slow thrusts before stopping above her and burying his face in her shoulder to catch his breath. When he was sure he’d completely finished he pulled out from her, eliciting a soft groan and rose to stumble over to his washstand. He grabbed a rag and wet it before walking back over to clean between her thighs and place gentle kisses on her stomach before tossing it aside and collapsing beside her. He felt her roll to snuggle into his chest before asking, “So what’s mo chroí mean?”

He only chuckled as he stroked her side, too blissed out to form a coherent response.


	7. An Open Book to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's near impossible to hide anything from a master spy. Even words you aren't ready to say out loud yet.

They were laying in bed, resting after their enthusiastic lovemaking after a very emotionally exhausting day. Mystriss lay tucked into his left side, an arm curled around his chest and her head over his heart. He was brushing his hand up and down her upper arm smiling at the goose bumps that trailed from his calloused fingertips even after all they had just done. After several long quiet moments, Myst sighed and turned just enough to kiss an old white scar across his collar bone.

"I like your scars," she said softly. "Not that you were in a situation to receive them but-"

Her rambling was thankfully interrupted by his hand weaving into her hair and turning her head up so his lips could brush hers again. "A woman who likes scars," he whispered with amusement. "Lucky me."

Myst blushed and tried to hide it by trailing kisses from his chin to down his neck. Slowly and just pressing her lips to his skin, almost nuzzling.

Widukind sighed with contentment and after she had settled into his neck he whispered, "I like the way you hum when you're concentrating."

Mystriss stilled in his arms. "What?" She blinked up at him. 

“Like when you were writing those letters in the back room. You were humming and had this adorable look of concentration. Most people hum when they’re just being idle or daydreaming or whatever. You were just doing it while completely focused.”

She stared up at him with wonder in her eyes. “You figured that out after just that time?”

“I think it's obvious by now, Myst,” he chuckled. “You’re an open book to me.”

Myst rose up to look him properly in the eye, her hair casting a veil around them. “I guess I am.” She said as she placed a hand on his cheek. “It’s been a long time since I did something like that. Haven’t really had the time, or…” She shook her head, seemingly having trouble finding the right words, which baffled him for a moment. 

Widukind placed his hand on her cheek, caressing the freckles that danced across it. His stump lifting slightly to rub the arm she leaned on by his side. “What is it?”

Mystriss shook her head slightly and kissed the palm of his hand. “You just make me feel…” she trailed off as she met his eyes and for that moment he understood the unspoken words. 

_ Safe. _

Such a small word but such a large part of what they both needed and wanted. He inhaled deeply and then pulled her down to a deep kiss. 

They eventually shifted onto their sides with him cradling her with his back to the door and hers to his chest. He took in the sweet flowery scent of her hair as her breathing slowed and she drifted into sleep. He was awake for some time, a tangled web of thoughts covering his mind. As he finally drifted to sleep, he squeezed his arm around her waist to curl her even tighter against his body. In the dark and quiet of this private room that was just for them, it spoke of how protective and frightened he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, this is Nithven. I play Mystriss Layla and we are ultra fangirls of sad elf boys learning to love.


	8. Morning After

Widukind woke to the sound of soft breathing and silken hair tickling his nose. The pale sunlight caught his lover’s chestnut strands and gave them a coppery hue as day broke, gifting him a beautiful sight.

Mystriss lay with her back to his chest as she slept, her human visage shifting ever so slightly in her sleep to reveal hints of the fey beneath. The blankets had shifted over to her side during the cold night and she’d gripped them tightly in the fist she held to her chest. His hand had managed to stay under the covers to curl around the smooth skin of her waist, bringing to mind other places it had been the night before. 

They had fallen asleep naked as the day they were born and were wrapped around each other in a tangle of limbs. He tucked her hair behind her ear as he heard seventh bell toll from Hightown Cathedral. Reluctantly, he pulled his arm back and untangled himself from her body, thankful for his stealthy abilities as he found a pair of pants to slip on. He figured a shirt could wait along with the shop. Most people wouldn’t be out this early on a weekday and he was in no rush to cover Mystriss’ scent as it lingered on his skin.

He tiptoed from the room, leaving the door open as he crept to the kitchen to start on breakfast. He was nearly done frying up bacon and eggs when he felt her slender arms wrap around him from behind. 

She mumbled a sleepy “Gud mornimph,” as she nuzzled into his spine, making him crack a grin.

“Careful,” he smiled, “I’ve only got one hand to turn these with and it would be a shame if they burned.” She gave a little hum as she let go and found a seat behind him. He turned to smile at her but froze when he noticed exactly what she was wearing.

His shirt from the night before had been left on the floor in their rush to the bedroom and now adorned her in all its crumpled glory. The pale green fabric was left unlaced and plunged down her chest, leaving little to his already haywire imagination. She’d rolled the sleeves up to her elbows and let her hair do as it pleased, still tousled from their activities and sleep the night before. Her sleepy eyes fluttered as she slowly woke the rest of the way up and her lips were still slightly swollen as she yawned and stretched like a cat.

He had to blink a few times before he realized she was saying his name. He felt his jaw snap shut from where it had apparently gone slack and blushed furiously as he turned to take the food from the stove. “Widukind?” she said, sounding concerned. “Are you okay?”

He grunted an affirmative as he gripped the counter, his shortened limb echoing the sensation through some odd sort of phantom pain. She must’ve stood as he did because the next thing he knew she was touching his shoulder and he was turning to kiss her, his hand snaking up to cup her cheek and tangle in her hair.

He let her go with a gasp and rested his forehead on hers, eyes shut tight as he tried to refocus his thoughts. The only thing he could manage was a quiet, “Beautiful,” before it was her turn to blush and stammer at his touch. She tried to pull away but by that time his hand had wandered to her hip and he pulled her in closer as he rested his head on her shoulder. 

She wrapped her arms around him from behind as she began to card her fingers through his hair. He had never known something like that could be so calming, and it was… until she shifted to kiss down his temple towards his jaw. A low rumble rolled from his chest as he felt her breath against the pointed tip of his ear and said, “Myst, if you start doing that breakfast is gonna get cold.”

“Doing what,” she said coyly. “It’s not like I’m… I don’t know… doing this.” Her nails pressed into his bare back as she dragged them down his spine, drawing a low hiss from the man and prompting him to stand straight enough to capture her lips again. 

He slowly walked her back towards the kitchen table and had just coaxed her to sit atop it when a loud series of knocks began to echo through the front of the store. 

Widukind growled out several choice curses in Elvish as he pulled back, panting. He looked at Mystriss, eyes burning with want, and said “Don’t move,” as magic rippled across his skin to make him look dressed and presentable. Whatever customer was out there was about to get quite the talking to.


	9. Worry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan to capture the mass murderer after Bryseis goes off with a few complications. Including a mystery assassin who seems to be unrelated to either party and has it out for Myst.

Widukind watched in horror as an arrow pierced Mystriss’ side, staining her blue gown a dark crimson. As his mind began to process exactly what he’d seen, his eyes traced the arrow’s trajectory back to an archer hiding on a nearby roof. He didn’t remember exactly what happened next but he did recall his vision going red as rage overtook him.  _ I will not lose her! Not again.  _ It was the only thought he could summon as his blade sank into first the archer and then the maniac they had  _ actually _ been after. 

He didn’t come back to his senses, even with the spectral fiend overhead, until he was beside her again, rushing to check her wounds.

“Damnit, I loved this dress” she said as she pulled the arrow from her side, healing magic flashing from her fingertips. 

He rushed over to press his hand against the wound and looked at her as he said, “Are you alright? Is there anywhere else you’re injured?”

She only shook her head before turning her eyes to the baby griffin strapped on his back. “I can take Rhea if-”

His hand darted up to stop hers. “No. You’re injured. I’ll carry her until we can get you treated.” He watched as she raised her brows at him before rushing off to follow her group. They made their way to the temple where Bryseis was whisked away shortly before their arrival. He waited in the lobby as acolytes pulled Mystriss and her party members away for treatment. Several minutes later, he knocked on the door to her examination room.

She called for him to enter and he wasted no time barging in. “Are you alright? That wound was deep. Where else are you hurt? What did the healer say?” His questions rattled off at a breakneck pace as he looked her over.

She finished buttoning her overcoat and grasped his hand to stop his fussing. “Widukind, I’m fine. I healed myself before the acolytes even had a chance and I had my party there with me, not to mention you.”

He let out a shaky breath and collapsed onto the examining table, prompting the griffin on his back to trill in alarm. He stayed there as Myst undid the sling and transferred Rhea to herself before sitting down next to him. “Look at me,” she said, her hand squeezing his. When he did she must have seen the naked fear in his eyes, because she gave him a soft kiss to help him focus.

“I’m alright. I am going to be alright. I have had  _ much _ worse and survived. The archer was unexpected but he’s been dealt with. I am safe.” She paused as she smiled at him, “It’s going to be okay.”

He took a deep breath and squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry, mo chroí. I…” He realized he was about to say three words that he couldn’t take back and stopped himself. “We should go meet your team in the lobby.”

She nodded in reply, squeezing his hand once again, and unlaced her fingers as she rose with him to leave the room. He listened as the Archcanon called them back and found a helpful section of wall to lean on as he took a deep breath. He desperately fought down the panic from before, clenching and relaxing his hand absently as he focused on the here and now. 

Seeing her hurt, watching her blood bloom across the fabric of her dress, it had nearly driven him mad with worry and rage. Now that he knew she was safe, he was reliving some of his worst memories of Byron.  _ It’s not like back then _ , he reminded himself.  _ She’s not him. I won’t lose her. _ He repeated the thought like a prayer as he waited for them to return.

After a few minutes, he watched as the party filed out with Mystriss at the end. He grasped her hand as she explained the situation. She had finished and was turning to leave when he spoke. “I’m putting a security detail on you. We don’t know who sent that archer and I’m not taking any chances.” 

She paused a moment, seemingly perturbed by his statement, before nodding. “Alright, but I want to know who he was and who sent him.”

“I’ll do what I can.” He closed his eyes for a moment before looking back into hers, “Can you come by the shop later? I- I know you’re safe. I just need…” He trailed off before his voice could begin to quake.

She smiled softly at him as she pet Rhea’s head, “Yeah. I need to take care of these idiots first, but I’ll be there.” She gave him a brief, chaste kiss, and turned to join her friends. As for Widukind, his thoughts swirled around in a maelstrom, unable to see anything but her. 


	10. Confrontation

Widukind let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding after he saw Mystriss off and properly bandaged. They’d survived, more or less, and for now she was safe. Whoever the fuck sent that archer was a dead man. 

He thundered into the shop, ready to access several contacts to lock down parts of the city and keep an eye out for any threats to Myst or her group. Halfway through sending orders he heard Gunnvar’s footsteps echoing up from the store. He quickly wrapped up his business and walked down the stairs to find his brother in the kitchen looking more peeved than usual.

The captain’s eyes flashed in the Lunahand blue steel as he spoke. “I thought we agreed any combatants would be captured alive.” 

Widukind’s only response was a low grunt as he stared his brother down from the door frame. As the other man became increasingly annoyed. “What was the point of reading them in if you were just going to let them run rampant?” Gunnvar’s voice began to increase in volume as Widukind remained stoic, “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get the council to agree to something like that? I can’t keep covering for you little brother.” His voice was raised in a full shout by the end as Widukind’s eye began to twitch.

“You want to know the point? Fine, I’ll fecking tell you since you don’t seem to get it. They  _ were  _ going to leave him alive and we would have a prisoner instead of a corpse if a gods damned  _ fiend _ hadn’t apparated to rip his feckin’ heart out!”

The two glared at each other from across the kitchen table. Both of their outbursts had led them to stand immediately across from each other and easily within striking distance. While Widukind could never attack a superior without dire consequences, the temptation was certainly there. Gunnvar was equally unwilling to back down as he ground out yet another question.

“And the archer? The men said you lost your fucking cool and hit him with a lightning sphere. You know how heavily regulated those are and that it was damn excessive. You’re slipping and the counsel is noticing.”

“The council or your bitch of a mother?”

“That is fucking uncalled for little brother!”

“Is it? That woman has been out to kill me since I was born. I’m surprised you haven’t feckin noticed!” At this point, the half-brother’s were inches away from each other’s faces and slowly turning varying shades of red as their tones escalated. 

Gunnvar, being the more contained of the two, took a deep breath and stepped back. “So what happened?” 

Widukind did his best to compose himself as his brother had but couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice, “There were multiple targets with unknown capabilities and several civilians still in play. Leaving him alive left too many variables.”

“Are you sure that it was about the civilians and not about  _ her _ ?”

Widukind’s jaw snapped shut as he tore his eyes away in shame. His brother had hit the nail on the head bringing Myst into the conversation. Gunnvar studied his younger sibling as the half-elf shifted nervously. Sighing, the guard-captain pulled out a chair to sit and spoke, “I know you’re interested in the woman but you  _ have  _ to be careful.”

“You think I don’t know that,” he whispered as he sat. “I’m not doing this because I’m  _ interested _ ,bràthair.” He ran his hand over his eyes in frustration. “She’s… special.” 

Gunnvar took on a look of pity. “You know you can’t court her brother. If the council found out they’d-”

“I  _ know _ , Gunnvar!” he shouted. “Do you think I’m taking this lightly? Every damn day I wake up wondering if that’s the day they tell me to break it off or worse! Do you think I’m somehow oblivious to how terrifying the council is? To what they can do?”

“No, but-”

“Don’t. Just don’t. I am beyond  _ terrified _ that they’ll tell me to never speak to her again. That they’ll…” He broke off as he choked on a sob.

“That they’ll what, Widukind?” His brother asked as he stared him down. “What is your worst case scenario?”

“That they’ll order me to kill her to prove my loyalty or some other blasted bullshit!” he roared as his eyes snapped back to the other man. “That I would have to choose between that and dying in front of her while they watch like the sick fucks they are!”

Gunnvar bit back his retort and the room fell into uncomfortable silence. After a beat he stood and walked past Widukind to rest his hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry brother. Just know that you deserve happiness.” Widukind heard Gunnvar walk several steps out into the shop before pausing. His brother took a deep breath before greeting someone. “Mistress Layla. I hope we haven’t kept you waiting for too long.” A pause. “I’ll be on my way.”

Widukind cradled his head in his hand. Wondering just how much she had heard and how much he would need to explain.


	11. Overheard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mystriss and Rhea hear Widukind and Gunnvar arguing after the fight with Bryseis' father.

Mystriss sighed as she approached the shop, Rhea cooing in her arms. She had changed from her ruined dress robes at the temple and wore her bardic garb again. After making sure Brysis would be okay and leaving the others to keep it that way she left with Rhea to find Widukind. On the way she thought back to the shock of the archer’s attack on her and Widukind’s pure rage. 

She worried that somehow it was a sign that Hadrien was suspicious of her digging. It didn’t seem likely to her, she had been careful when she had left Wrord, to Hadrien she had still appeared friendly, even as the very idea of it had felt like poison under her skin. Her library attempts to find information on him had resulted in failure even with Shion’s expertise in research. After Widukind’s revelation of the true nature of his work she had briefly thought of asking him to look into her enemy but had quickly dismissed the idea. Mystriss didn’t want to give the impression that she would use him for his spy net.

After today’s shit show, however, it may be her last option for info in Cragas. At least on that particular man. She had mentioned to Widukind that she suspected Flynn’s death wasn’t an accident and that she suspected Hadrien. That she had come to Cragas to discover his origins. Mystriss had yet to explain how the Lady of the Summer Court had tasked her with capturing him. Of course he had but to ask about any of it and she would tell him. If he hadn’t already figured it out. The mark of the summer court was clear on her chest. 

The other possibility, one that she was afraid to think about, was that it was the Crows. Or the people over the Crows, holding their chains.

Mystriss sighed again. Widukind would get it out of her, even if she tried to hide her worries. She really had no secrets when it came to him.

A questioning chirp came from the sling as Rhea blinked up at her in pure innocence. 

Myst smiled and scratched a finger under the griffon’s beak. “Did you like being with Widukind, Rhea?” A happy little trill in response. “He took very good care of you. Even if things got out of hand.” 

The griffon chirped happily as her eyes closed to the scritches. Myst gave her a final head rub and, straightening her shoulders, opened the back door to the shop. The back room was empty and she listened for a moment wondering if he was even back yet. Then she heard the rising voices coming from the kitchen and moved further into the room to hear better. 

She heard Gunnvar’s voice speaking, “You know you can’t court her, brother. If the counsel found out they’d-”

“I _know_ , Gunnvar!” Widukind shouted. Mystriss gasped silently and the half elf continued to speak, “Do you think I’m taking this lightly? Every damn day I wake up wondering if that’s the day they tell me to break it off or worse! Do you think I’m somehow oblivious to how terrifying the counsel is? To what they can do?”

“No, but-”

“Don’t. Just don’t. I am beyond  _ terrified _ that they’ll tell me to never speak to her again. That they’ll…” He broke off as he choked on a sob. 

Mystriss stood in the middle of the back room, frozen in place. Her arms curled around Rhea but she hardly paid attention to the little baby and her head bowed as her heart raced with fear. They’d only talked about it briefly the other night, how relationships weren’t allowed.

“That they’ll what, Widukind?” His brother asked as he stared him down. “What is your worst case scenario?”

“That they’ll order me to kill her to prove my loyalty or some other blasted bullshit!” he roared. “That I would have to choose between that and dying in front of her while they watch like the sick fucks they are!” 

Mystriss stared at the floor with wide eyes. The heart wrenching pain in Widukind’s voice was a sharpened point to the stake that was stabbing into her heart. The horror that Widukind described had only been hinted at in their talk before their wonderful night together. That he was talking about this right now to his half-brother, she felt his fear and could tell the underlying truth that she had missed until right at this point. She understood that he cared deeply for her after their first night together. Honestly, she’d known since his brother had told her how he had acted while she had been “missing”. Mystriss felt the same really, but now she truly cursed the time, the _ months _ , they had lost from the accidental jump into the feywild. He had lived with this fear for a long time and she was only just beginning to realize the extent of it. 

A hundred separate thoughts began to cloud her mind until she heard the scrape of a chair and footsteps as Gunnvar spoke again, “I’m sorry brother. Just know that you deserve happiness.” 

She heard his footsteps coming towards her and made an attempt to find some sort of braver face. It probably wasn’t very successful since Gunnvar stopped when he saw her standing there silently, clearly having heard at least part of their conversation. 

He gave her a sympathetic look as he greeted her, “Mistress Layla, I hope we haven’t kept you waiting for too long.” He gave her a nod and walked past her to the back door. “I’ll be on my way.”

The shop was silent and Mystriss slowly stepped towards the door. Still staying out of sight, shaking with the tension in the air, Mystriss pulled Rhea from her sling and tempted her with a little piece of jerky before placing her on the ground. With a wiggle of her fingers she used Mage Hand to carry the tempting treat around the corner, leading the baby griffon into the kitchen. Carefully, Myst peeked around the corner and saw Widukind with his head in his hand and his back hunched. With a flick, the mage hand wiggled the jerky in front of Rhea, her eagle eyes fixed on the food and then flicked it into Widukind’s lap. 

Startled, the half-elf sat up just in time for Rhea to leap into his lap with a triumphant screech. The griffon snatched the piece of jerky up and was gobbling it down with a pur as Widukind looked from her to Mystriss who now stood in the doorway properly. She smiled, even though she knew it was weak and her arms were wrapped tightly around herself.

“It’s cheating, I know, to bring a baby griffon,” Mystriss said softly as she slowly stepped further into the kitchen, watching Widukind absently pet Rhea’s back even though he was piercing her with those steel blue eyes. Seeing everything she was barely trying to hide. 

“How much did you hear?” he asked softly, his eyes looked so pained, even as they pinned her in place with the weight of his focus.

Mystriss stood by the table, leaning her hip on it as she watched his hand stop moving in the feathered fur between Rhea’s stubby little wings. “When he said you can’t court me…” 

“Myst.”

At that she met his eyes for the first time since she’d walked in. He must have read quite a lot in her eyes, she was an open book to him after all, because he gasped. Then in a sudden rush he rose from his chair, causing Rhea to squawk in protest as she slid to the ground, and then his arm was wrapping around Mystriss and weaving his hand into her thick brown hair. He held her tightly to his chest, his face buried in her neck. His hold was so tight, it forced her hands to release her own hold and instead wrap around him. She raised one hand to weave into the hair at the nape of his neck, to comfort even as he was trying to comfort her, and the other around his waist and up his back.

They clung together so tightly there was no hiding the way they both trembled. 

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “I promise I’ll figure it out.”

Mystriss’ grip in his hair tightened and she pulled back so she could meet the tears in his eyes with her own. “We’ll figure it out together,” she assured him. “Don’t go thinking that you’re alone in this fight.”

He kissed her as the tears broke free and all that they were feeling flowed between them like water being released from a breaking dam.

Some unknown time later, Rhea chirped at their feet, wanting attention. And they smiled and after giving the baby her dues, turned their attention to rechecking each other’s wounds. The world continued to turn and more problems would arise certainly, but they would weather them together.


	12. Comfort

Widukind sighed as Myst ran her fingers through his hair. They’d retired to bed after their conversation in the kitchen and grabbing a bite to eat. She’d helped him out of his armor only to notice that he was still covered in fresh electrical burns from the fight in the square. She’d lectured him as magic danced across her fingertips, soothing the tender skin. “Why didn’t you have an acolyte heal you!” 

“I’ve had worse, mo chroí,”

She poked his chest as her spell cleared away the burns, “That doesn’t mean you need to suffer now, dummy!” She kept poking him in various places as she healed him, forcing him to stifle a laugh at the odd mix of sensations. 

“Mo chroí! For the love of- pfft- of the gods, please stop! I swear I’ll get healing next time just- feck-” he began to laugh uncontrollably as she started poking his ribs.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” she said with a grin. “Does this tickle?” She began to torture him in earnest, aiming primarily for his ribs and sides.

“Mo chroí! Please mo chroí, you’re killing me!” At that point she’d chased him to the foot of the bed. Rhea, not to be outdone, pounced onto Myst’s back, rocketing all three of them forward onto the mattress and trapping Widukind underneath. Both he and Myst had the wind knocked out of them as they landed and Widukind took the opportunity to kiss her deeply in an effort to distract from any further tickling.

She sighed into him as he wrapped his arms around her and began to card her fingers through his hair, bringing them to the present moment. He may have deepened the kiss if a certain griffin hadn’t made her way to the top of Myst’s head and chirped down at him. He looked up at the fluffy creature and said, “Oh really? Am I not allowed to kiss your mother?” Rhea jumped down onto the bed and pecked at his ear in response. He snorted and threw his hand up to say, “Alright! Alright! I get it!”

Myst, who had been barely holding back giggles the entire time let out a chiming bout of laughter as she stood. Widukind tried to follow but Rhea trotted over to plop down on his chest and nuzzle in, cooing contentedly. Myst promptly scoffed and shouted, “Rhea, you traitor! That was my spot!”

Widukind let out a quiet snort while he shifted to hold the griffin as he rose into a sitting position. “It seems, mo chroí, that you have competition.”

“Oh, really? And what does she have that I don’t?”

He pretended to think for a moment, “Well, I hate to say it but she’s the only one on the bed at the moment.”

Myst feigned outrage as she clucked her tongue. “Well I suppose I should just leave then!”

He hurriedly placed Rhea on a pillow and rushed to catch her, laughing all the way. The griffin let out a squawk as Myst turned back to him, smiling into a kiss. They stood there trading gentle kisses before going back to bed and snuggling in their preferred sleeping position with the addition of a baby griffin that Widukind may or may not have had to remove from his face overnight.


	13. Summary 2

It is the day after the attack during the ceremony for the Order of the Griffon’s new estate. Most of the party is in the barn, some recovering from heavy drinking the night before, as well as Geoff beginning to adjust to some of his new abilities. When Mystriss returns with Rhea, the party meets with a halfling man who is the architect for their new estate. They spend the morning planning out the estate with the budget they have been granted and then the group separates to various tasks around town. 

Mystriss retrieves her commission from Warrin Coldblossom, a local enchanter and seller of magical goods. The item is an endless inkwell of Sending, it can send spectral letters (25 words only) once a day to anyone who is familiar to you. However they are unable to reply in the same manner. Upon leaving Coldblossom’s store, she spots movement on the rooftops, likely the crow detail that Widukind had placed on her, without asking her opinion or permission. For the time being she leaves it and makes an order with the local tailor for some adjustable clothing. 

Then she and Sylben sit in the tap room of the Deranged Barrel Inn to write some letters. Sylben uses her new magic inkwell to send a message to the master at the monastery where he is from, asking if they can do some research ahead of time on the fiendish curse on Bryseis. The party plans to leave in two weeks to Geoff's old family farm and then Sylben's monastary. Mystriss spends nearly two hours of the afternoon, Rhea napping in her lap, writing a letter to Lord Cailan, her adoptive father and highest ranking noble in the northern city of Wrord. Mystriss explains all that has happened to her in the past eight months since she left the Horthos Merchant Caravan, explaining how a six month gap happened from their trip into the feywild on the island expedition. She talks about Rhea. She has to be vague with mentions of Hadrien and her attempt at research in the Cragas archives failing.

She tells him of their new estate and the circumstances in which it was rewarded, being careful to avoid mentioning how they were forewarned by The Guard Captain and his master assassin brother. Mystriss hesitates on mentioning Widukind, for several reasons (his position as a crow and hers as a woman who’s fiance, Cailan’s own son, was murdered). She settles on not naming the person or their position, but on how they have made her feel happy. For the first time in years.

With her letter completed, Mystriss notices a man across the room who is watching her constantly. Mystriss finally gets truly angry and has just enough control to leave Rhea, who protests at her momma leaving so suddenly, with Sylben. Previously, Rhea had bit Sylben the last time he tried to interact with her but this time she settled in his arms nice enough. Satisfied with the care of her bird/cat baby. Mystriss storms her way to Widukind’s shop, ready to set her overprotective boyfriend straight.


	14. First Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: contains smut.

Widukind heard the back door to the shop slam shut as Mystriss called him. “Widukind? Do you have a moment?” He closed his ledger and placed it in the desk drawer as he called back.

“In the office, mo chroí.” He turned, expecting to see the mild mannered bard come in with a smile. What he got instead was his lover storming in with one eyebrow raised and lips pressed into a thin line. His face became deadly serious in an instant as he said, “What happened?”

Myst scoffed as she replied. “What happened? What happened was you sending crows to keep track of me.”

“I said I’d assign a security detail.” He shot back.

“Exactly! You  _ decided _ , without asking me, to send a bunch of highly trained assassins to watch my every move. I can’t _ sneeze _ without one of them doing a double take!”

“We don’t have any information on that archer yet, mo chroí. What if-”

“Don’t finish that sentence, Widukind Fallenshot! You’re smart enough to know that you can’t justify that decision to others. As much as you care about me, the council has no reason to. How are you going to explain that to them?”

He ground his teeth in frustration. The logical part of him knew she was right but his temper and need to see her safe overpowered it entirely. “Damn the council! I won’t risk losing you, mo chroí!”

“I am a grown woman, Widukind!” she shouted, bits of her fey visage peeping through and flashing her eyes a pure white. “I don’t need protection! The Order and I are a group of well trained individuals with  _ no need  _ for babysitting!”

He stepped into her space, hands shaking. “If you want me to believe that, then prove it. Show me what you can do.”

She returned his challenge with equal conviction, screaming “Fine!” in his face before throwing a blast of magic to knock him back. She ripped her rapier from its sheath, slashing down at him at lightning speed as he drew a dagger to parry. 

He twisted her blade away to toss it from her hand just as she let out an inhuman screech, fey visage flashing to disorient him. Unfortunately for her, he was used to that particular trick after years of border patrol. Unfortunately for  _ him _ , he only had one hand to work with while she had two and the ability to sling spells. One of those hands grabbed his wrist and twisted in an attempt to disarm him while the other sent out another high powered blast, forcing him to choose between keeping his grip and breaking his wrist. 

He was blown back and slammed into the desk as she backed out into the hallway, acutely aware of her disadvantage at close range. Letting out a growl under his breath, he catapulted forward, using her backward momentum to press her into the wall. His hand pressed one of hers back against the plaster as his knee came up to rest between her legs, pinning her in place. 

He’d thought he’d won just as her other hand snaked up to pull his head forward into a heavy kiss. His shock caused him to hesitate for just a moment, but it was enough for her to slip her hand from his grasp and sweep his legs out from underneath. She followed him down to the floor, both hands grabbing onto his arms to pin his hand and stump to the floor above his head as she caught her breath with a victorious smirk.

With no other physical outlet for his raging emotions, he reached his head up to crush her lips in a bruising kiss. She met it with one of her own as her hands shifted to grab his hair, none too gently pulling it and forcing him to let out an obscene groan. He lifted his thigh to grind against her sex as she straddled him. Seemingly unhappy with their current accommodations, she activated her cape, teleporting them up the stairs and onto their feet. He used the opportunity to push her back against the wall and trail a rough line of kisses down her throat, growling in want. She forced him back as she reached to open his bedroom door, balling her hand in his shirt.

He let her shift him around and push him, causing him to fall back on the mattress. He tried to pull her with him but she only pushed him onto his back saying, “Do you believe me now?” 

He ground his teeth again as he sat to look her in the eye, “I’ll call off the detail.”

“And?” she asked, eyebrow arching in annoyance.

“I’ll ask permission before doing something like this again,” he said, refusing to look away.

She nodded before closing the distance and cradling his head in her hands. “Don’t ever make me do that again. I hate trying to hurt you.” 

He scoffed, a slight smirk tugging on his lips, “You only won because of that kiss. Do you do that with every man that attacks you, or am I special?”

It was apparently the exact right thing to say because in another moment she’d climbed into his lap, tugging his hair back to force him into a kiss. She broke it off only to look at him with lustful eyes as she said, “Take your clothes off, sweeting. You owe me after that.”

He grinned back at her, ready to tease when she cut him off. “Don’t test me Widukind, I may be a lady, but I can hold a grudge.”

“I never said you couldn’t, mo chroí,” he replied as he began to tug his shirt off. The moment it was on the floor she was on him, her nails digging into his back as she kissed him again with even more force than before. 

His hand found its place at the nape of her neck as he nipped at her lip. Reaching just slightly south, he began to undo the button of her jacket. Luckily, she’d come over in her plain clothes, meaning that he didn’t have to struggle with her bardic wear. He pushed her jacket and cloak off, leaving her camisole beneath and plenty of skin to nip at. Her hands had come free with her outer layers and she reached down to pull her shift over her head. He took the opportunity to bite one of her nipples as he rolled the other between his fingers, his shortened arm sliding up her side.

She threw her head back with a choked sigh, giving him the chance to turn them over and position her further up the bed. She kicked off her boots and tugged him back down on top of her as she fell back onto the pillows. He kicked his own shoes off in turn and began to kiss down her chest, dragging his teeth across her soft skin.

He slid his fingers beneath her breaches and towards her smalls before she reached out to grab his wrist with a defiant stare. “We aren’t going at your pace tonight, sweeting. You said you wanted me to show you what I’m capable of? Now it's my turn.” 

His eyes widened a fraction as she flipped them over to pin him as she had downstairs. “Well, mo chroí, what exactly did you have in mind?” he asked, eyes roaming over her naked torso. 

“It’s an easy enough game, sweeting,” she smiled. “You get to hold completely still while I have my way with you.”

He took a sharp breath in before cracking a toothy grin, “Alright, mo chroí. What happens if I win?”

She flipped her hair over her shoulder and said, “Then you get a turn.”

“Can’t say I mind the sound of that. What if I lose?”

“Then I get to keep playing with you.”

The thought of either caused his member to twitch and he was forced to fight the urge to move. “Alright, mo chroí. But don’t be upset when I leave you a mess.”

“We’ll see. Now take your pants off and lay back for me.”

He watched her as she rose to slink away as he stripped. He refused to break eye contact, even arching a brow at her as he removed his breaches and returned to where she had him. He tracked her with his eyes as she came back to bed, licking her lips as she took him in. She began to undress herself, taking her sweet time and making little noises for his benefit. He was grateful to his past self for taking off her shirt, because his erection was nearly painful as she got back in bed and looked him over. 

“What to do with you? There’s just so much to explore...” She fluttered her lashes at him as he raised a brow, unwilling to give in without a fight. She smiled back at him as she leaned up to whisper in his ear, “Maybe something like this.” He made a sharp inhale as he felt her hand around his cock, resisting the urge to buck into her hand. “Or maybe something like this?” she asked as she crept back down his torso, tracing his happy trail with her other hand and pumping him a few times.

She gave him an especially fiery grin as she kept her eyes on his and leaned down to wrap her lips around him. He broke his silence with a quiet “Feck” as she began to swirl her tongue around his tip. She took her mouth off of him to give him another one of those killer grins as she tossed her hair back and leaned down to take more of him in. 

He could help but pant as she began to suck and fondle his balls, shifting between them and his shaft as she stroked. He fought every instinct telling him to move and began to feel a tight knot form as she began to stroke in earnest. She would bring him close to the edge before backing off to tease him, only allowing the tip of her tongue to lick at his slit. His hand balled into a fist and he bit his lip, trying to maintain some form of control as this continued for what felt like hours. 

By the time she sat back to wipe her lips and smile at him she had him clenching his jaw in frustration. “I think you’ve done enough, sweeting. Would you like a turn?”

His only response was to surge forward, grabbing the hair at the base of her neck and growling, “If you think you’re leaving this room tonight, mo chroí, you are sorely mistaken.” 

She laughed as he twisted her around onto her back, making him give her a bruising kiss as his hand drifted down her hips. Without warning he plunged two fingers into her core, making her moan and stretching her walls. She was  _ soaked _ . 

He broke their kiss to bite into her neck, marking her as his as he pushed up on his knees to drag her over to the edge of the bed. She tried to sit up but he pressed her shoulder down as he said, “My turn, remember mo chroí?” She gave him a stunned look as he sank to the floor and threw her leg over his shoulder. He bit her thigh before turning to suck on her sensitive clit as his hand kneaded the flesh of her thigh. 

He heard her give a startled cry at the sensation and he used his shortened limb to coax her other leg up as he put the other one down to push his fingers into her. She called his name as her back began to arch and he waited for her walls to begin their tell-tale tremble before breaking off from her and biting her other thigh. 

She let out a keening cry as he let her leg go again to rise over her and kiss her, tasting a hint of them both on her lips. He looked at her and called her name before saying, “Still think you can take this, mo chroí?”

She stared right back at him, flushed and obviously frustrated, “What part of ‘I won’ didn’t you understand, Widukind?”

He gave her a grin before lifting her leg and sheathing himself inside of her, making her walls clench as he began to move at a bruising pace. Bringing her so close before paid off as she clamped down around him. He kept thrusting into her through her orgasm, giving her no time to recover afterwards and bringing her to completion again as he swiped against her g-spot. 

She screamed his name as blissful tears began to trail from her eyes, “Gods! Widukind- please- I-” He bent forward to bite her neck again as he swiveled his hips, making her cum yet again and triggering his own release.

He reached up to catch himself as he slid out and took a moment to breathe before helping her all the way on the bed and falling beside her. Myst was the first to recover and looked over at him as she said, “Well… damn.”

He let his head fall back, covered in as much sweat as she was. “You wanted a challenge, mo chroí,” he said as she rolled over to cuddle into his chest.

“Yeah but I didn’t know you would take it that seriously.”

He huffed, a grin widening his lips, “If I can’t satisfy my lover, what kind of man would I be?”

“Oh, that’s not the problem,” she said laughing up at him. “I just don’t think I’m going to be able to walk for a bit.”

He reached over her shoulder to grab a blanket and cover them both. “Then it’s fortunate we’re already in bed, mo chroí. Now, in the name of all things holy, let’s get some fecking rest.” He felt her laugh a little against his chest as he slipped off to sleep, exhausted but extremely relaxed.


	15. Off the Market

Myst was deep in sleep, dreaming something she couldn't quite remember as she was stirred into the waking world. The warm surface she was sleeping on was shifting from beneath her and she groaned as her sore body curled to try and retain the warmth.

She heard a satisfied and very male chuckle. "I'm just going to make some dinner for us, mo chroí."

"Nnn," she groaned trying to pull him back blindly. "Too cold."

He laughed and she felt another weight being placed over her. Probably a thicker blanket. "I'll be back with something warm to eat then."

She distantly registered his footsteps going down stairs and the various sounds of him preparing food. Myst dozed, shifting over to his abandoned place in the bed to bask in the fading warmth for a few moments longer. When she could smell the wonderfully rich scent of stew rising up from the kitchen below she finally sighed and began to sit up. 

When she stood up she groaned as she stretched. It had certainly been a while since she had done anything quite as intense as they seemed to do anytime they were alone. She smiled as she put on his shirt and her breeches. She should really consider bringing her night clothes with her if they were going to continue spending nights together. As fun as it was to be naked with him in bed, in the winter she really needed warm clothes at night.

When she finally went downstairs and into the kitchen the mouthwatering smell of stew was thick in the air. Myst took her usual seat at the table and leaned her chin on her hand as she watched Widukind's culinary skills at work.

“So,” Myst began coyly. “It seems that the most eligible bachelor of Cragas’ merchant guild is off the market.” She sighed dramatically. “It’s breaking hearts all over the city.”

Widukind chuckled. “Oh, and who would that be?”

“Well it should be obvious.” Myst stood and slid around the table to stand behind him. “Since Dova is teasing me about catching the eye of a very handsome, one-armed general store owner.”

“Well,” he said looking over his shoulder at her. Seeing her in his shirt, his blue eyes sharpened as he sent her a smouldering smile. “I don’t know about ‘eligible’ but catching your eye is certainly worth losing such a ridiculous title.”

“Sweet talker,” she blushed and kissed his cheek before retreating to her seat again.

As Widukind ladled the hearty stew into a couple of bowls for them Myst asked with a bit more seriousness, “So you aren’t worried about people talking about us like that? Shouldn’t we be a bit more subtle?”

“No,” he replied firmly, “If we tried to hide it, it would just be worse. If people are teasing you about it, it’s best to just laugh it off. They can think what they want.” He pinned her in place with his steely blue eyes. “We know this is more.”

Myst smiled and nodded, “Well, alright then.”

They began to eat and Widukind smirked when she moaned at how good the stew was.

“When the estate is built,” she said, pausing to finish chewing like an actual lady. “Please teach our cook how to make this!”

He laughed, “Surely your cook will know how to make something much better than a simple beef stew.”

“Maybe, we hired Dova’s eldest son, Trevor,” Myst explained. “He can’t go to culinary school just yet and needs a job away from home. It will be a good experience for him.” She smirked. “But, you teaching him some recipes serves multiple purposes at once.”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“He learns from an experienced cook. We get to eat your food more often. And I get an excuse to see you at the estate.” She adjusted the over large shirt which was slipping off her shoulder as she teased him. “Not that it’s needed of course.”

“Hmm,” he hummed distractedly, admiring the marks on her neck and shoulder before she pulled the shirt up. “I’ll think about it. You have five months to convince me.”

“Aha, another challenge then!”

They laughed and continued to eat and chat. It was a very enjoyable dinner and Myst was pleasantly full and warm beside the kitchen fire while Widukind began to wash the dishes. After a moment, Myst joined him and they stood washing and drying as she began humming pleasantly. 

Eventually, Widukind spoke, “So, if I can’t put a detail on you. Will you allow me to place crows onto the estate staff? Just two people, I promise.”

Mystriss tilted her head as she thought. “I’ll have to ask the others, but I don’t see a problem with that. So long as they are people  _ you _ trust. I suppose spies in noble estates are common enough.”

“I know exactly who to send.”

“Oh?” she asked, with a teasing lilt. “Do tell? Anyone handsome enough to tempt away charming bards?”

He snorted, “Not telling. You’ll meet them later this week.”

“Fine,” she sighed. As they finished with the last of the dishes she set her towel down and held a hand to the place where the sending stone rested on her chest under his shirt. “We will be leaving in about a week, and once we are out on the road, is there a particular time I can contact you on the stones?”

“Well, probably only once a week, in the evening,” he said, like he didn’t like the arrangement. “On Friday evenings? That way I can arrange so no one overhears.”

She nodded and kissed his bare shoulder with a sigh. “ I suppose it will have to do. We are probably going to be gone for at least a month.”

Widukind wrapped his arm around her and kissed her head. They slowly made their way back to bed and returned to their previous cuddling positions, Myst took off the pants but kept his shirt on as well as the extra blanket, even with Widukind’s warm chest under her head and hand. She idly traced some of the scars on his chest as she thought about the last thing she wanted to say for the night.

“I wrote a letter this afternoon,” she began, “Before I saw your detail watching my every movement from across the tavern and got angry.”

He squeezed her shoulder in a silent apology before responding tiredly, “Oh?”

“I wanted to write to Lord Horthos.” She felt him pause all movement, waiting for her to finish. “It’s been at least eight months since he heard from me, what with the island and everything. I’m sure he’s worried. I told him everything I could in writing. Even with everything I left out, it’s a very long letter. His reply might even arrive by the time I come back with the Order.”

Widukind hummed in response, and she turned her head to try and see his face. His eyes were struggling to stay open and he rubbed her back to try to encourage her to continue. Myst smiled and shifted just enough to kiss him chastely on the lips. “That’s all, Sweeting. Good night.”

“Mnn, good night, mo chroí.”


	16. Send Off

It was Myst’s last night in Cragas before leaving with her order for Ambermeadow Valley. She’d come over to Widukind’s shop, Rhea in tow, for some much needed comfort and quality time. Unfortunately, she arrived to find Widukind swamped with work.

He was in the office, wavy hair tied back to keep it out of his face as he looked through a dozen or so files in the low lantern light when he heard her approach. “Are you alright, sweeting?” she asked, looking him over in concern as she placed Rhea on the floor.

He gave her a tired smile and said, “Yeah, just going through some reports on that archer. My agents are having trouble tracing him back to his employer.”

“Trouble, how?” she asked as she wrapped her arms around him to rest her chin on his shoulder.

He sighed and turned to kiss her head before continuing. “He wasn’t exactly tied to any organization or syndicate and the cleric’s gathered that he never saw his employer’s face. All we know is that it was a male of average human or elven height and build.”

She seemed to still for a moment, holding back some sort of thought as she looked away. “Mo chroí,” he said, noticing her discomfort, “if you know something, now is the time to share it.”

She pressed her lips into a thin line before answering. “Remember when I told you that I came here looking for information on someone?”

He raised a brow, encouraging her to go on.

“I hit a bit of a dead end. His family records didn’t give me much to go off of and I couldn’t find anything on his activities before he came to Wrord.” She paused before taking a deep breath to say, “I’m pretty sure he killed my fiance, Flynn. And… he’s the one that the Summer Lady wants me to bring back alive.”

“This shtate have a name?” he asked, eyes taking on a dangerous glint. 

She nodded, reaching up to twist her hair. “Hadrian DeMors. He showed up in Wrord about five years ago.”

He grunted as he took the name down, fully intending to sic his best researchers on the issue in the morning. “I’ll have my people look into it. If nothing else, I can get you the bastard’s location to help you with the Lady.”

She gave him a thankful smile, “You know you don’t have to do that, right? I’m sure I can-”

He silenced her with a tender look as he reached out to cup her cheek, “I want to, mo chroí. And before you say anything, it  _ is  _ my job to look into this matter. The council shouldn’t object either way.” 

She graced him with a kiss as she placed her hand over his, leaning into his touch. “Thank you,” she whispered in relief. 

He stood to hold her properly, right arm rubbing up and down her side. “Let’s get some food,” he said, steering her toward the kitchen. He’d stocked up on groceries the day before and went to work making something light. Rhea, who’d followed them into the room, sat near the fire staring tentatively at him as he prepped some fish. 

The little griffin was just about to hop up on the counter when Myst called out to her. “Rhea! Don’t you dare get up there. Come here this instant young lady!” 

Widukind chuckled at her motherly tone as he looked over his shoulder. “With a voice like that, I’d expect you to have already raised several children, mo chroí.”

“What makes you think I haven’t?” she teased, shooting him a wry grin.

“Well,” he said as he tossed the fillets into a skillet, “I  _ have _ seen every inch of you. You are either very good at hiding it or a very bad liar.”

“Well,” she huffed. “At the very least, I consider this practice for later.”

He froze. They’d never talked about children but  _ gods _ did he want that with her. He mentally stomped down a daydream of little half-elves with green eyes and her smile as his chest constricted. He was still a Crow. And he still didn’t know how to change that.

She seemed to catch on to his pain as she walked up behind him to wrap her arms around his waist and nuzzle into his back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up like that.”

He sighed and leaned back into her touch, “It’s alright, mo chroí. I want that too. I just…” He trailed off to grasp her hand.

“We’ll figure it out,” she said as she kissed his shoulder. 

He squeezed her hand before turning back to the stove. They spent the rest of the evening talking and cuddling by the fire, Rhea snuggled in their laps. They went to bed just before midnight. He held her tightly as they slept, unwilling - and possibly unable - to let her go.


	17. Cold

_ She was cold. Myst stood in a maze of hallways without warmth or flame in sight. The only light seemed to be an everpressent, dim glow that showed her just enough to walk. And then she heard him. _

_ “Mo chroí,” his voice called from far away in the shadows. “Mo chroí, where are you?” _

_ “Widukind!” she cried, looking about trying to discern where his voice was coming from. “I’m here!”  _

_ But he didn’t seem to hear her, his voice drifting further away as he called. She began to run towards it but every time she drew near it sounded in the opposite direction, further away. As the sound began to drift further and further, she screamed his name at the top of her lungs. There was no reply. “Don’t leave me. I don’t want to be alone again!” she sobbed, as she fell to her knees. _

“Mo chroí!” Myst jolted awake in Widukind’s arms, eyes finding him with a gasp. They were still in bed and he was gently shaking her awake. “It’s just a dream, Myst,” he said as she collapsed into him. He slowly rubbed her back, letting her calm down as Rhea readjusted at the foot of the bed. 

She let him soothe her and dried her eyes after she stopped shaking. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He shushed her as he leaned back to kiss her forehead. “It’s alright mo chroí. Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head as she nuzzled into his shoulder. “I just need a moment.”

He hummed in acknowledgment as he rubbed her back again. “Alright. Just let me know when you’re ready to go back to sleep.”

She nodded into him and they eventually lay back down to get a little more rest. He was still there when she woke in the morning, having waited for her so he could give her a gentle kiss. He made them breakfast and quietly kissed her goodbye saying, “I’ll be here waiting when you get back, mo chroí.”


	18. Interlude 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My players were good guys, gals, and nonbinary pals so they unlocked some extra content for the holidays. Enjoy some Widukind POV while the order is away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation notes at the end.

It had been a few days since Myst and the Order had left the city. Widukind had heard that they had acquired a new companion on their way out. A goblin known for his strange machinery and hard liquor sales. He hadn’t heard from her yet but that was to be expected.

It was raining outside as the sun disappeared over the horizon and he found himself gearing up to head out on patrol. He climbed up to the shop’s roof from his bedroom window and stalked out into the night. He had to admit, while he hated being a Crow he loved the feeling of freedom nights like these brought. His hood kept the rain out of his eyes as he nimbly darted from roof to roof into the common district. 

Few people were out in this weather, preferring to stay warm and dry, but beggars, thieves, and underground merchants thrived on nights like these. He made note of several new players and the territory they inhabited, deciding almost on instinct to send Crows after some over others. 

He’d nearly made it to the eastern gate when he saw a figure weaving into the shadows several roofs over. Eyes narrowing, he began to follow at a distance, knowing that he hadn’t assigned anyone to this area that night. The figure carved out a path towards the noble district as he stalked behind, going just fast enough to keep them in sight. 

All of a sudden they took a sharp turn and fell out of view, making him swear under his breath. He crouched down where he’d seen them last, scanning nearby streets for the mystery person when he felt the tip of a crossbow bolt in his back.

He froze, mentally cursing himself for being a damned idiot, as the figure spoke. “Hands up. One false move and they’ll be picking up your corpse in the morning.” The voice was feminine but rough like a smoker’s. She prodded him one more time as he raised his fingers, leaving his right arm down.

“ _ Both _ hands, bosthoon.” She growled.

He huffed and raised his shortened arm to show the lack of his right hand. “Only have the one. Sorry to disappoint.”

She dug the bolt further into his back, “Shut it. Who the feck are you and why are you following me?” Her elvish accent came through and he mentally began pinning it down to a geographic region.

_ Wrord, near the bleed, _ he thought as he began to edge his foot into a better position. “Can a man not be curious?”

He could practically feel her grinding her teeth as she shifted behind him. Taking the opportunity, he swept his leg behind him to take hers out from underneath. His hand darted out to force her crossbow up as he ducked to dodge the bolt she fired. She began to tumble over the edge of the roof and grabbed onto him as she fell. 

They both hit the alley below with a crash and Widukind felt a definite  _ crack _ from one of his ribs. Wincing, he stood as his hood fell back, letting the rain soak his hair. He finally got a good look at the woman. She was a wood elf somewhere in middle age with long braids draping down to her waist. She readied another bolt as she looked up to aim and froze for half a second. He darted forward to send a kick straight to her chest and used his momentum to bring her down to the ground, tearing a knife from its sheath.

He held it to her throat as he ground out, “You going to tell me who the feck you are and why you're in  _ my _ city acting like you own the damn place?”

She seemed to recover from whatever had been going on and narrowed her eyes at him. “What would the Lunahand bastard need that information for?”

It was his turn to blink in shock. Few knew about his connection to the deceased lord and fewer still would be able to make it without having seen him and Gunnvar in the same room. She took the opportunity to throw him off and scurry out of the alley, tossing some sort of explosive at him on her way.

It flashed brightly enough to blind him in the low light, making him curse prolifically as he raised his hand to shield his sensitive eyes. When they cleared she was gone and he was left with a rapidly spreading pain around mid back where he was sure he’d broken a rib. He hissed in pain and frustration as he sheathed his dagger.

He looked off in the direction she had gone and said, “Nách mór an diabhal thú?” as he cradled his side. He was going to have to talk with Gunnvar in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bosthoon - idiot  
> Nách mór an diabhal thú? - aren't you the devil?


	19. Interlude 2

The next morning found Widukind awake and wincing as he retaped his ribs. That fall had done a number on him, leaving a giant purple bruise down his side and breaking at least two of his bones. He’d managed to determine that they were fractured rather than completely snapped and had opted to stay away from healers. The council had always been particularly intrigued when he showed weakness and he wasn’t going to feed that fire.

Finishing his home attempt at first aid, he shrugged on his street clothes and headed out to meet with Gunnvar. He’d sent his brother a message that morning saying that he had urgent matters to discuss. The reply had been short, asking to meet in a different location than usual. He’d nearly groaned when he saw where. The Lunahand estate had never felt particularly welcoming to him and the possibility of dealing with Lady Cornelia first thing in the morning irked him to no end.

He made his way onto the grounds, only stopping briefly to nod to a few guards at the gate. They weren’t exactly aware of the reason, but they knew he was supposed to be allowed in to meet with Gunnvar without being questioned. He made his way to Gunnvar’s study to find his brother tired and staring at a document in exasperation.

He knocked on the door frame a few times before cracking a joke, “Hearing back about your mother’s spending habits again?”

The older brother snorted. “I wish. No this is different, close the door behind you, please. It seems we both have interesting news.”

Widukind raised his brow and stepped in to comply. He grabbed a free chair and spun it around to rest his arms on the back. “So, do you want to go first or should I?”

Gunnvar sighed and motioned for him to continue. 

He nodded. “I ran into someone on patrol last night.” He paused as his brother gave him a questioning look. “Not one of my agents but she moved like she’d had training. Managed to turn our game of cat and mouse around to suit her.”

Gunnvar leaned forward, folding his hands under his chin in interest. “Oh really? You’re normally not so careless.”

Widukind grunted in annoyance. “Either way. She was an elf, seemed to know the city well but had an accent from out west.”

“West as in Wrord or as in Imammelle?”

“Wrord,” he replied. “But near the bleed if not in it. It’s been a while since I’ve heard the dialect.”

Gunnvar nodded, “And?”

Widukind took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair to push it out of his eyes. “She knew me somehow. Or at least of my connection to the Lunahand name.”

He watched as his brother sucked a breath in through his teeth. “How?”

Widukind pressed his lips into a line as he thought it over. “She saw my face and something clicked. I’m not sure what she knows but there are only a handful of people that could realize we’re related without seeing us in the same room.”

He watched as his brother nodded and asked, “What was her description again?”

“Wood elf,” he replied, “average height, athletic build. Brown hair. Raspy voice. Couldn’t get an eye color in the low light.”

“How old?”

He sighed. “Hard to tell with elves. Middle aged. Four-hundred or so, maybe?”

His brother cracked his knuckles in thought. “I’ll ask around. I was too young to remember anyone who was there when you were born but some of the servants should have something.” He paused as he caught Widukind eyeing him. “Don’t worry, I’ll leave my mother out of this. She wouldn’t talk about it with me anyway.”

Widukind hummed in thought before asking, “So what has you bent out of shape this morning?”

He watched as his older brother groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “The Queen has… suggested that I marry.”

Widukind blinked a few times before he burst out laughing despite the pain it caused his ribs. “You’re that damn perturbed about - HA - about finding a wife? Gods bràthair, you looked like you had just been assigned to latrine duty or something!”

Gunnvar growled in the way older siblings always did when their younger counterparts made asses of themselves. “It’s not the prospect that annoys me, brother. It’s the fact that I didn’t choose her.”

Widukind’s laughter ground to a halt as he winced in pain and sympathy. He understood the feeling of having your autonomy ripped from you. “Who is she?”

His brother sighed as he clenched his fingers together. “A noble from Imammelle. The Queen wants to improve border relations.”

“Elf or…?” Widukind asked, waiting for a reply.

“Half-elf. She’s apparently well known for her magical ability.” 

Widukind let out a sigh of his own. “Cornelia’s going to love that.”

Gunnvar groaned. “She already knows. She’s… not happy.”

“I bet. I’ll warn my agents to give her a wider berth.” He paused as he watched Gunnvar wrestle with the situation. Standing he paced over to his brother’s liquor cabinet to grab out a bottle of scotch.

Gunnvar noticed and blinked in confusion. “It’s far too early for a glass brother.”

Widukind gave him a look. “After the last few days, I think we could both stand a shot.” He placed two glasses on his brother’s desk and poured, staring Gunnvar down until he sipped at his. Nodding Widukind tossed his back and patted his older sibling on the shoulder. “Meet me at the shop later. It’s been too long since we just relaxed.”

His efforts awarded him a small smirk from his brother who said, “I’ll try not to drink you under the table this time.”

“Hah!” he scoffed. “As if you could!”


	20. 1st Sending Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myst has been traveling with the O.G for one week. The journey has been quiet so far as they get accustomed to their new member, Rusty the goblin artificer and maker of unusual alcohol. Friday night arrives and Myst is eager to talk to Widukind.

Mystriss had moved away from the rest of the group as they settled in for the evening. The large tent was pitched for Moolan and a fire was being set up for them to cook a couple of rabbits Geoff had hunted for them along the road. Once she was confident she had enough privacy she pulled the sending stone from under her shirt and activated it. 

"Widukind?"

A short pause and then, "Mo chroí, how are you?"

"Better now I am hearing your voice, Sweeting." Mystriss grinned.

His voice returned with that increasingly familiar teasing lilt, "So you miss me then?"

"After just one week?" Myst replied. "Perhaps just a little. I think Rhea prefers your chin scratches to mine."

"Is that right?" His voice sounded a bit tired though still smug. "The trip's keeping you preoccupied then?"

"Well, I haven't been the first one shot with an arrow while traveling like usual yet, so I'd call it a good week of boring travelling." 

"You mean you actually EXPECT that to happen?!" He demanded and Myst had a momentary thought of " _ oops _ " when she heard him hissing in pain.

"Sweeting, are you alright?" She asked, frowning. 

"It's nothing, mo chroí."

"Widukind." She growled, like a mother bear.

"Just an injury from work," he assured her. "I can deal with it. It's nothing too bad."

"You shouldn't have to," Myst whispered.

He sighed, "I'll be fine, Myst. Now explain to me how being shot in an ambush is a normal thing for you?"

Myst let out a short halfling curse, " _ Merde... _ Just that the road to Cragas was very dangerous."

"Hence, why you showed up in the city unconscious and  _ heavily _ injured."

"That wasn't archers," Myst protested. "It was a pack of dire wolves. Got surrounded, didn't have my cloak to get away and we didn't have a cleric with us. If that happens again there are at least four different healers in the Order now."

"Your group does seem to gravitate towards trouble."

"Which we can handle!" Myst said, tilting her chin up proudly even if he couldn't see her. There was a beat of silence before she amended, "Most of the time anyway."

"And you'll tell me if things get out of hand and you need help?"

Myst pursed her lips. "Would you?"

He sighed, "Myst-"

"No, I'm sorry," she amended. "I know what you're doing is dangerous and your job. I don't want to be an extra worry... Is there anything you can tell me?"

"Not yet. And thinking about you is never a bad thing, mo chroí." He replied, a little of his normal teasing swagger returning even through his pain.

"Sweet talker," Mystriss grinned, even as she blushed.

"Are you blushing?"

"No!"

Widukind chuckled softly, pleased with himself.

"If that's how you are going to be on these calls I'll end this one here. Good night, sir!" Myst huffed before adding more gently. "Get some rest and try not to do too much until it heals. Please, Sweeting."

"I will, mo chroí," he assured her and she could almost hear his smile. "Give Rhea some scratches for me, even if it is just as my stand-in. Tell her I miss her." Myst stuck out her tongue childishly. "But I really miss you, Mo chroí."

"Me too, Sweeting," Myst sighed and then stammered. "Miss you, I mean.  _ Merde _ !"

He laughed and then groaned in pain as whatever was wrong was bothered by the movement. "Good night, Myst. Stay safe, and in the middle of the group is probably best."

"Good night. I'll talk to you in one week. Sleep well, Sweeting."

With that, she slipped the stone back under her shirt and thought for a few seconds before she quickly pulled out her sending ink and a piece of paper. With her quill, she quickly wrote:

_ If it helps you have good dreams, just think of how much fun we'll have when I come back. _

There was a long pause before she heard his voice, slightly muffled from under her shirt. "Feckin tease, mo chroí!"

Myst laughed and strode back to the group, with a little spring to her step.


	21. First Sending Call - Widukind's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More bonus content unlocked by the players!

Friday evening had finally rolled around when Widukind heard from Myst. She called his name over the sending stone and he set aside his paperwork to reply. "Mo chroí, how are you?" he asked.

He could hear the smile on her lips as she said, "Better now I am hearing your voice, Sweeting." 

He cracked a teasing tone as he leaned back in his chair. "So you miss me then?" He could clearly imagine her on the other end as they talked, sure that she had that cute little grin on her face that he adored. 

"After just one week?" Myst replied. "Perhaps just a little. I think Rhea prefers your chin scratches to mine."

"Is that right?" he said smugly as he rubbed his tired eyes. "The trip's keeping you preoccupied then?"

She let out a little laugh. “Well, I haven't been the first one shot with an arrow while traveling like usual yet, so I'd call it a good week of boring travelling."

He felt increasingly alarmed at her statement as he responded. “You mean you actually EXPECT that to happen?!” He hissed in pain as his ribs flared, hoping she wouldn’t notice. But there was no rest for the wicked and his luck had been on the fritz lately.

He could hear her concern as she asked, "Sweeting, are you alright?" and felt guilty as hell that he’d worried her.

_ Gods dammit _ , he thought as he tried to reassure her. "It's nothing, mo chroí."

He knew it hadn’t worked when she said his name in a warning tone he was beginning to recognize as her protective side.

He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath before saying, "Just an injury from work.” He felt his tattoo flare in warning before he could say anything specific and opted for more reassurance. "I can deal with it. It's nothing too bad."

Her next words were soft and it frustrated him to hear her say, “You shouldn’t have to.”

He sighed deeply. He knew she worried about him but this was the only life he’d ever known. Call him a hypocrite for treating her the same way not two weeks before but he wanted to hear that she was confident in his abilities. A nagging thought came to mind, reminding him that the elf woman  _ had _ gotten the jump on him. Shaking his head he rushed to change the subject. "I'll be fine, Myst. Now explain to me how being shot in an ambush is a normal thing for you?"

He heard her curse in halfling before saying, “Just that the road to Cragas was very dangerous."

Thinking back to the report he’d gotten the day she entered the city he said, "Hence, why you showed up in the city unconscious and  _ heavily _ injured."

"That wasn't archers," Myst protested. "It was a pack of dire wolves. Got surrounded, didn't have my cloak to get away and we didn't have a cleric with us. If that happens again there are at least four different healers in the Order now."

"Your group does seem to gravitate towards trouble," he said with a sigh.

"Which we can handle!” She must have been saying that in a moment of temporary pride because she followed it with “Most of the time, anyway."

He raised his brow at that and offered his assistance again. "And you'll tell me if things get out of hand and you need help?"

He wasn’t expecting her response so he was taken aback in a rare moment of annoyance when she asked, "Would you?" in a biting tone.

He ground his teeth and smothered his temper, knowing she was doing it out of concern. “Myst-” he said in warning.

"No, I'm sorry," she apologized. "I know what you're doing is dangerous and your job. I don't want to be an extra worry.” She paused a moment before asking, “Is there anything you can tell me?"

He ran his hand through his hair, knowing that his general orders kept him from telling her most things. "Not yet.” Wanting to turn to lighter topics he replied, “And thinking about you is never a bad thing, mo chroí," taking on a cocky grin.

“Sweet talker,” she shot back. He knew he must have gotten to her from the lilt in her voice so he decided to tease her more.

“Are you blushing?”

Her quick “No!” was enough to make him chuckle, only just causing his ribs to ache again.

"If that's how you are going to be on these calls I'll end this one here. Good night, sir!" Myst huffed before adding more gently, "Get some rest and try not to do too much until it heals. Please, Sweeting."

His eyes softened at her concern as he said, “I will, mo chroí. Give Rhea some scratches for me, even if it is just as my stand-in. Tell her I miss her.” The last bit made her scoff so he followed it with “But I really do miss you, mo chroí.”

She replied in that flustered way that left a pleasant knot in his chest. "Me too, Sweeting," Myst sighed and then stammered. "Miss you, I mean.  _ Merde _ !"

He barked out a laugh and immediately groaned as his side flared in pain. Feeling the discomfort fade he said, "Good night, Myst. Stay safe, and in the middle of the group is probably best."

He could hear her smile on the other end. "Good night. I'll talk to you in one week. Sleep well, Sweeting."

Thinking the conversation had ended, he dropped the stone back beneath his shirt and turned to his work. A few short seconds later, however, spectral words danced across his vision reading,  _ If it helps you have good dreams, just think of how much fun we'll have when I come back. _

The implication gave him an ache in the pit of his stomach and he dug the stone back out to send one last message. "Feckin tease, mo chroí!"

He could practically feel her laugh from so many miles away as he left his work abandoned, needing to hash out a certain brand of frustration before he could focus again.


	22. Lord Cailan's Reply

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myst receives a letter from her adoptive father in response to the one she sent from Cragas.

My dearest girl,

I cannot express the relief I felt upon receiving your letter. When I had not heard from you in some time, I could not help but worry for you. Bemma and I are glad to know that you are well and in good spirits and are curious as to these new companions of yours.

I have written the lords of the plains to express my dissatisfaction with your last trip to Smoothebell. It seems that the cult you ran into had been operating in the area for some time and was slowly corrupting the local government. I shudder to think what would have happened had you not been capable of dealing with such monstrous men. At the very least, I am glad that you gained several good traveling companions from the experience.

I am also in debt to the friends you met in Cragas who assisted with your recovery, as I’m sure they helped in some way you’ve forgotten to mention. I am happy that you have found the chance to perform and have even heard tale of your new musical style. Many travelers have called it uplifting and applauded your ability to relate to the audience. I look forward to hearing you play when we next meet.

The situation with the island you mentioned is not new to me. I received word of it shortly after it appeared and when it seemingly shifted back to it’s home plane. I am afraid there is much I have yet to tell you concerning certain expectations after you become family head. Now that the records have been amended to include you, I am able to discuss these duties. I will be in Cragas in a few months to attend to courtly matters and can discuss the situation then. 

Turning to your research, our guest left Wrord several months ago and I have not been able to locate him since. He claimed urgent family matters in the south but several sources spotted him heading to the northwest using back roads and odd byways. I am afraid that I have been ineffective at stealing his focus.

Strange things have begun happening near the border. Refugees are pouring through the bleed from the winter court, carrying disturbing accounts of fey behavior. I ask that you take precaution when dealing with anyone beholden to unseelie patrons. I do not believe that you should be afraid, but caution is always preferred over walking blind.

I am intrigued by this griffin you mentioned. I had the pleasure of seeing a wild herd in my youth and thought them majestic creatures but understood them to be quite untameable. Perhaps you are at an advantage due to your particular lineage and the age of the chick. I assure you that I will follow your lead when I finally meet the hatchling and promise not to sneak her too many treats.

I am saddened to hear of your roguish friend’s situation. Should she require, I am happy to speed along the process of claiming her birthright. The Rottbrid family has a remaining branch in Akx that may prove difficult to work around but I believe that I may hold a small amount of sway over the current family head. 

I am quite proud that you have made your own mark on Prowend. I certainly had not expected to hear that your group is now an official militia under the crown or that it had been awarded an estate in the capital. I am familiar with the previous Lord Lunahand but have not had the pleasure of meeting his son. Their family has had ties with us that, while not being necessarily close, have had quite the impact on the Horthos name. I remember the previous lord as a stern man of good stock and hope that the new head has treated you as well as his father did me.

The unknown archer worries me and I fear that certain figures you may be unaware of have begun to move in the shadows. While our guest is not to be discounted, there is much you do not yet know. I assure you that I will impart this knowledge when next we meet. It is, unfortunately, too sensitive to mention here. I will  _ always  _ worry about you dear girl, you are my daughter in all but blood and will forever hold a place in this old man’s heart. It  _ is _ a father’s right to fuss over his children.

Finally, I am happy that you have found someone. Flynn would not wish for you to while your life away without companionship, my dear. I hope to meet this man when I visit so that I can properly assess how worthy he is of your presence. Any man who can throw you off your rhythm is either a charlatan or clever indeed. I do wish to have some grandchildren someday! No need to worry yourself, a dozen or so should suffice!

I can imagine your face as you read this. Don’t worry my dear. I jest. Four or five would suit me nicely! Please do write to me when you are able. A note through this magical means every few weeks or so should be fine to rest the worry in my old heart. 

With love,

Lord Cailan Horthos


	23. Interlude 3

It was nearly a week after his talk with Mystriss when he heard anything new about the elf he’d encountered on the rooftops. A fledge had walked in to help him around the shop before making an off comment. “I heard the council is looking into that elf you saw the other night sir. Do you know who you’re going to assign to the patrol detail?”

The girl was nearly eighteen and itching for her first front line assignment so it was likely that she had just been trying to get an early bite at the apple, but Widukind knew that he’d only told Gunnvar about the incident and that his brother had assured him he would leave Lady Cornelia - and the council, by extension - out of the mix. He paused his work for but a moment as he eyed the fledge, making her squirm. “Where did you hear this?” he asked, tone brokering no leniency. 

“I…” she stuttered, a small look of panic taking over her features. “I was delivering a report the other day. I’m sorry sir! I swear I didn’t mean to overhear!”

His eyes narrowed at her and he had to remind himself that whatever had happened was in no way her fault as he ground out, “You’re dismissed for the day. Don’t tell anyone of this conversation.”

She gulped and scrambled out of the shop to get away from his simmering wrath. Widukind for his part waited until she was several blocks away to flip the shop sign to “closed”. He thundered upstairs to change into his armor, needing to feel more in control of a situation that seemed to be rapidly slipping from his grasp. Wincing, he made sure to buckle the leather tightly around his ribs to maintain stability and walked back downstairs as he used his tattoo to appear more like the average shopkeep. 

He stormed the guard station shooting Hillborne a look as he entered. Whatever the gnome saw must have been unpleasant, because he immediately blanched and waved him into a meeting room as he ran off to find Gunnvar. The moment his brother entered and closed the door Widukind dropped the magic maintaining his appearance and ground out a terse greeting. “Bràthair. What’s this I hear about the council looking for that elf?”

Gunnvar raised a brow at him as his eyes flashed to an equally stony hue. “It’s not something you need to know, Widukind.”

He clenched his teeth as Gunnvar placed a wardstone on the door. Once his brother turned back to him, Widukind let out a growl. “Funny, I thought a city’s spymaster was supposed to be informed on the assignments given to his agents.”

“It’s out of my hands, brother.” Gunnvar retorted. “Now are you going to be civil or will we need to tell Hillborne to clean up after you go?”

Widukind could feel his hand begin to shake in rage and barely stopped himself from swinging at his half-brother before doing something almost as incredibly idiotic. He felt his tattoo beginning to flare and several tendrils begin to spread down his neck as he went against the old order his father had given him nearly seven years ago. “Do you know what happened the last time the council did something like this?”

He could see Gunnvar’s eyes darting between his face and the blackening veins on his neck in alarm. The older brother had never seen Widukind angry enough to defy an order so adamantly. “What are you-”

“The last time,” he ground out, rage numbing the pain, “the council, scratch that,  _ your mother _ , pulled this shit, she sent mine to die and  _ sold me into slavery _ .” He watched in twisted satisfaction as his brother blinked in shock and disbelief. “The  _ only  _ reason I’m bound to this life is her jealousy, dear brother! She is why I can’t do as I please. Why I can’t look Myst in the eyes and tell her I love her, that I want to grow  _ old _ with her! Why I have to treat the idea of having a gods damned family and children like a fantasy!”

Gunnvar had a look of horror on his face as he said, “How do you-”

“Know? Our father  _ told _ me right before he ordered my silence. So before you tell me that I don’t ‘need to know’ what is going on, think about how astronomically  _ FUCKED _ the council has left me.”

His brother blinked in shock before trying to say “I- I’m sorry-”

“Don’t,” Widukind growled. “I don’t want your apologies. I don’t give a damn if you’re sorry or if you feel guilty about the shit she’s put me through. Just tell me what the feck is going on and why I’m being left in the dark.”

“I don’t know either, Widukind!” his brother roared. “Mother overheard me asking the servants about the elf and took it to the council. They’ve shut me out too! They even pulled an eight to one majority to veto anything I could have done! I CAN’T GIVE YOU INFORMATION I DON’T HAVE!!!” 

Widukind’s jaw snapped shut as he stood there stunned. For the council to so easily overpower his brother was rare. Absently he asked, “Who was the one vote in opposition?”

Gunnvar took a deep breath and looked him in the eye as he said, “Lord Horthos.”

Widukind numbly let the concealing magic of his tattoo wash over him again as he walked past Gunnvar, his steps silent out of old habit as he opened the door. He vaguely heard his brother call out to him as he paced out of the building. His steps took him out of the city to a secluded stretch of beach a few miles beyond the docks.

He hadn’t even realized that he’d made his way there until he noticed the distinct lack of people as the waves droned out all other sound. Tilting his head back to look up into the overcast sky, he let out a frustrated scream that came from his very core. No one would see him as he fell to his knees. No one would know that the stoic spymaster, assassin,  _ slave _ , kept screaming until his throat was raw. No one would see his fury and rage pour out of him as if he had nothing left to give.


	24. 2nd Sending Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This week of her journey north has been a little more eventful, what with an awkward encounter with a former flirtation in the town of Smoothebell, recieving a letter from her adoptive father Lord Cailan, and meeting a Summer Court Dryad playing her enchanting music in the forest. There is a lot to tell Widukind.

It was just a few days after leaving Smoothebell when it came time for her second call with Widukind. She moved away from the group once again, a little further than before since Bryseis and Moolan were still teasing her and giving her knowing looks, especially after the incident with the guard in Smoothebell. 

“Widukind?”

There was a short pause before he spoke, his voice raspy and hoarse, “Hey.”

Myst frowned a little, rapidly trying to think of how to word her question, “Is- your voice is hoarse. Are you alright?”

She could hear him take a deep breath over the stone. He seemed to be deciding on a response. “It’s been a rough few days.”

“Would you rather I talk then? If there isn’t anything you can tell me that is.” She smiled. “I can be an excellent distraction.”

He chuckled softly. “That would be wonderful, mo chroí. How has your journey been?”

Mystriss immediately launched into a detailed account of the encounter with the Summer Court Dryad and how much it had moved her. At the end of the account she added. “The way the forest reacted and enhanced the music, I don’t know how to describe it! It was one of the most beautiful experiences I’ve ever had when playing music. I’ll play the song for you when I come back.” She sighed at the memory. “I can only hope to have that much of an effect on an audience. I love the fae folk songs, it reminds me of the stories Mamma would read to me.”

She could hear the smile on his lips as he said, “I remember quite a few of them from when I was near the border. Can’t say they compare to you, though.”

“Sweet words will get you anywhere,” Myst replied, blushing.

“Oh really?” he asked. “How about dashing grins and romantic dinners?” 

“From a very particular one-armed chef? Absolutely. No one else can hope to have a chance.” Myst bit her lip at the memory of the encounter with Brok from a few days ago. “In fact, those who try get thoroughly embarrassed by The Order for the attempt.”

“HA!” he laughed, “I suppose I’ll have to buy them drinks when you all return.” He paused for a moment before seeming to come to a decision. “There are a few things I could tell you, mo chroí. But I won’t be able to elaborate.”

“Alright, but only if you can,” She replied, immediately sobering.

“The council froze me out of an investigation. It’s raising some red flags.” He took a deep breath and she could imagine him running his hand through his hair in frustration. “And… I fecked something up with Gunnvar.”

Myst was silent for a moment as she tried to process the limited information. “I don’t have anything to say about the council, other than I agree it’s worrying. As for Gunnvar, he’s your brother. Even if it’s complicated, I know he cares about you. He did warn me not to break your heart, you know.” She tried to let her smile be heard. “Something a good older sibling does.-”

“Wait,” Widukind cut her off. “He  _ what _ ? When did that fecking happen?”

Myst blinked, trying to think if that was something she maybe shouldn’t have said, before replying with a mental shrug. “After we came back from the Feywild.”

“That damn… I-” Widukind sighed as he collected his thoughts. “He didn’t say  _ too  _ much did he?”

“He told me what I needed to hear.”

“That certainly clears things up, mo chroí,” he said in a tired sigh. “I suppose I should thank the ass.”

“The point I was trying to make, Sweeting,” Myst replied. “Is just that he’s a good brother. Whatever happened, I’m sure you two will work something out. Even if it takes some time.”

He sighed, “You’re right. I just… he’s been dealing with something else lately. Non-crow related. And I wish I hadn’t added to the pile.” He paused for a moment. “But that’s enough about me. How are you?”

“I’m doing very well.” Mystriss began to perk up and she pulled out her adoptive father’s letter. “Especially after I received a reply letter from Lord Cailan. It was waiting by messenger in Smoothebell and I’ve read it several times now.”

“Oh?” he said, seeming hesitant.

“Yes, it's so nice to hear from him,” she sighed. “There are a few worrying notes that can’t be elaborated on in writing but I suppose he can elaborate when he comes to the estate in six months.”

Widukind let out a low breath on the other side, seeming more than a little worried about something.

“Widukind?” she asked, hesitant.

“I-” she heard him wince in pain. “There’s something you need to know that I can’t say.”

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Can it wait until I get back?”

“Myst, I-” he took a cutting breath as he tried to hide the pain. “It’s not the kind of thing you should wait to find out.”

Myst frowned in worry. “Alright, if you are sure.”

“How far are you from the group right now?” he asked.

“Farther than I would normally go. Geoff seems particularly sensitive to sounds recently.”

“It’ll have to do,” he said with a shaky sigh. “Myst, how much has Lord Horthos told you about his ties to the capital?”

“Only things relating to the merchant side of his business dealings. I had more of a head for that sort of thing so it was encouraged.” She looked back at his letter. “He does mention that there’s more to tell me now that I am officially his heir.”

“That…” Widukind breathed for a moment. “That actually makes this a little easier.” 

Myst stared at nothing as she tried to think what he could be getting at. She began to have a notion and waited for Widukind to continue. “What is it?” she asked, half fearing she could already guess.

“Myst,” Widukind said as she could hear him grind his teeth against the pain. “He’s on the council.”

“WHAT?!” she yelled. She added in a quieter tone, “Oh sorry! I just-”

She could hear him let out a breath through his teeth. “Mo chroí, I need you to focus right now. I’m not sure how much more of this I’m willing to take at the moment.”

“Right, okay.”

“Normally his son would have taken up the mantle by now, but…” he trailed off seemingly afraid of finishing the sentence. “He’ll likely talk to you about it when he arrives.”

“I-” Myst ran a hand through her hair as she tried to process this revelation. Her voice changed into her perfect impression of Dax as she let out a string of curses, “ _ Fils de pute! Merde! _ ” She took several deep breaths. “Thank you for telling me. I might not swear at Lord Cailan when I see him now.”

Widukind let out a pained and half-hearted laugh. “At least one good thing came out of this then.” She could practically hear him slump over as he groaned. “With any luck we won’t have to try that again any time soon.”

“That would be preferable.” She waited a moment to give him time to recover before she added. “Not to trade one worrying thing for another, Sweeting, but I have something to tell as well.”

She heard him wince as he shuffled around on the other side. “Yes, mo chroí?”

“Well, two things really,” Myst sighed. “First, the man I told you about, you probably already know but he’s left Wrord. A few months back and without a trace. Last seen heading north east.”

He sighed, “That would explain why Wrord’s spymaster has been refusing to answer my questions. Tolla-thon that he is, he’s probably trying to sidestep the issue.” He paused a moment. “What’s the second thing?”

“Well, that in the letter I wrote to Cailan, I mentioned, with as few details as possible, that I had become particularly attached to someone in Cragas.” She took a deep breath.

“Well… feck.” He took a deep breath. “That’s going to be interesting later on.”

“Yes… He has expressed interest in meeting this person when he comes to town.” 

“I figured,” Widukind replied. “I… must admit I’m not sure how to work with that.”

“Well,” Myst sighed. “We have months to think about how to approach it. Considering everything I know now, he will probably be a very valuable ally for us. Eventually.”

“I hope you’re right, mo chroí. It’s not like he won’t figure it out within an hour or two of being in the city.”

Myst laughed softly, “True. A handsome shop owner and a dazzling bard. Kind of obvious.”

He snorted, “I don’t know if I’d say handsome but the rest is true.” He let out a chuckle, “Gods. You are absolutely irresistible, you know that?”

Myst felt a full blush filling her cheeks. “Well, I’d heard it once or twice but from a dashing, intensely clever man like yourself? I suppose I’m beginning to learn.” 

“You’re blushing again, aren’t you mo chroí?” he teased.

“Not at all!” Mystriss protested, unconvincingly. “I’ll have you know I am a bard of Glamour! It takes more than that to make me blush! Why, I recited sensual poetry without blushing!” 

“Sure, Myst. Funny how I distinctly remember your cheeks turning red when last I-”

“That’s enough out of you, Sir!” She demanded playfully. “We’ll continue this argument when I come back. Not one more word now.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” he said, his voice dropping to the seductive tones that made her mind short circuit. “I still haven’t gotten back at you for that message last time we talked.”

“Hopefully you have had some sweet dreams then?” she teased. “I have to make do with a cold bedroll and being constantly surrounded by my companions.”

“A crying shame, mo chroí. I suppose it’s a good thing that I’ve been coming up with a few new ideas then, hm?” he returned, knowing he had the upper hand.

“Sweet talker,” was all Myst managed to reply with.

He chuckled, a smug grin working its way into his tone. “Either way, you should get some sleep, Myst. I’m sure you have a long day ahead tomorrow.”

“I suppose,” she pouted. “Thank you for telling me everything, Sweeting. Please get some sleep yourself. I miss you.”

His tone took on a more somber note. “I miss you too, mo chroí. Stay safe. And come home soon.”

“I will.”


	25. Second Sending Call - Widukind's POV

Widukind kept the shop closed the next day. His only company was the occasional fledge that sprinted out as fast as they had come to deliver reports. After he’d received everything he expected, he climbed the stairs to collapse in bed, emotionally exhausted and incapable of giving a damn about very much at all.

He drifted in and out of sleep, staring at the ceiling until he heard Myst’s voice over the stone on his chest, calling his name.

He squeezed his eyes shut, not realizing how much he’d needed to talk to her. Unable to form anything more coherent, he croaked out a rough “Hey.”

Her halting words let him know that she’d caught on to his exhaustion. “Is- your voice is hoarse. Are you alright?”

He took a deep breath, wrestling with all of the things he wanted to say. Part of him wanted to pretend to be strong, to assuage her worry so that she’d smile and think everything was fine. But the sane part of him knew that it wouldn’t work and that she’d only worry more if he denied how he was slowly falling apart. Taking the blow to his already crumbling pride, he said “It’s been a rough few days,” hoping that she wouldn’t be able to hear the exhausted tears as they rolled down his face.

Like a ray of sunshine, she found a way to break through the storm cloud over his head. He could hear a little smile in her voice as she said, “Would you rather I talk then? If there isn’t anything you can tell me that is.” She smiled. “I can be an excellent distraction.”

He chuckled softly. “That would be wonderful, mo chroí. How has your journey been?”

She launched into a tale of a dryad she’d met on the road. He could hear the light in her eyes as she described the way she’d been entranced and felt a little indignation in her defense when she doubted her ability to perform in such a way. He’d seen her first hand and knew that she was more than capable of affecting her audience like that. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she had a way of reaching into the souls of her listeners and letting the sad, jagged bits of their hearts soak in her melodies. 

He couldn’t manage to put those thoughts into words. He wasn’t as eloquent as she and he had far less of an education to help him form the sentences. So he settled on a smile as he heard her express her fondness for Sylvan musicians and said, “I remember quite a few of them from when I was near the border. Can’t say they compare to you, though.”

He could practically feel her blushing on the other side as she replied. “Sweet words will get you anywhere.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, starting to feel more like himself. “Oh really?” he asked. “How about dashing grins and romantic dinners?”

Her response made him chuckle. “From a very particular one-armed chef? Absolutely. No one else can hope to have a chance.” She paused a moment, a slight teasing tone coming to her voice. “In fact, those who try get thoroughly embarrassed by The Order for the attempt.”

He couldn’t hold back a deep laugh as he pictured her companions defending her honor. “I suppose I’ll have to buy them drinks when you all return.” 

As his mind drifted back to the current situation, he realized that he was bottling up his emotions just as he had during her disappearance. Remembering Gunnvar’s words to him all those months ago he decided to take a monumental step forward. If he couldn’t talk to her, the woman he so desperately loved, about what was on his mind, he would only ever be a weight dragging her down.

He took a deep breath and said, “There are a few things I could tell you, mo chroí. But I won’t be able to elaborate.”

Her tone immediately changed from playful to softly serious as she said, “Alright. But only if you can.” The unspoken  _ without hurting yourself _ was appreciated, but he’d made his decision.

He told her about his frustrations with the council as they shut him out and briefly explained that his relationship with Gunnvar was under strain. She listened closely and thought a moment before giving her reply.

“I don’t have anything to say about the council, other than I agree it’s worrying. As for Gunnvar, he’s your brother. Even if it’s complicated, I know he cares about you. He did warn me not to break your heart, you know.” His idiot mind screeched to a halt with that tidbit of information. He vaguely heard her say something about Gunnvar being a good older sibling when he broke her off.

“Wait. He  _ what _ ? When did that fecking happen?” he asked. Completely blindsided and afraid that his half-brother had divulged too much.

She paused, probably wondering if she’d said something she shouldn’t before telling him that it had happened just after she got back from that damned island.

“That damn… I-” Widukind sighed as he collected his thoughts. “He didn’t say  _ too  _ much did he?”

“He told me what I needed to hear.” He felt a pit open up in his stomach as she said that and left him completely in the dark.

“That certainly clears things up, mo chroí,” he said in a tired sigh. “I suppose I should thank the ass.”

“The point I was trying to make, Sweeting,” Myst replied. “Is just that he’s a good brother. Whatever happened, I’m sure you two will work something out. Even if it takes some time.”

He sighed, “You’re right. I just… he’s been dealing with something else lately. Non-crow related. And I wish I hadn’t added to the pile.” He paused for a moment, remembering what they’d been talking about in the first place. “But that’s enough about me. How are you?”

He thought he was done with surprises, he really did. But as she perked up to tell him about the letter she received that pit in his stomach returned. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten about it.  _ Damn me for not paying attention that night _ he thought.

He choked out an “Oh?” in response, letting her continue.

“Yes, it's so nice to hear from him,” she sighed. “There are a few worrying notes that can’t be elaborated on in writing but I suppose he can when he comes to the estate in six months.”

He felt the tattoo begin to stretch down his neck and onto his chest as he prepared to go against an order for the second time in so many days. She must have heard him breathing out because she called his name.

“I-” he broke off as a fresh wave of pain rolled through his veins. “There’s something you need to know that I can’t say.”

He could hear how concerned she was as she asked, “I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Can it wait until I get back?”

“Myst, I-” he hissed out another breath as the pain began to spread. He only hoped he could tell her before it became unbearable. “It’s not the kind of thing you should wait to find out.”

He ground his teeth as she made her decision. “Alright, if you are sure.”

“How far are you from the group right now?” he asked.

“Farther than I would normally go. Geoff seems particularly sensitive to sounds recently.”

“It’ll have to do,” he said with a shaky sigh. “Myst, how much has Lord Horthos told you about his ties to the capital?”

“Only things relating to the merchant side of his business dealings. I had more of a head for that sort of thing so it was encouraged.” She paused. “He does mention that there’s more to tell me now that I am officially his heir.”

“That…” Widukind breathed for a moment as the pain lessened a hair. “That actually makes this a little easier.” 

She took a moment trying to puzzle it out before asking “What is it?”

“Myst,” he said, clenching his teeth as he felt fiery bolts run down his spine. “He’s on the council.”

Her screamed reply was not unexpected and her apology immediately after was appreciated but the pain was continuing to build and he had to press on.

“Mo chroí, I need you to focus right now. I’m not sure how much more of this I’m willing to take at the moment.”

“Right, okay.” Her tone was deadly serious.

“Normally his son would have taken up the mantle by now, but…” he trailed off, not wanting to call forward bad memories for her. “He’ll likely talk to you about it when he arrives.”

She stuttered out the beginnings of a sentence before cursing in Halfling only to take several calming breaths. “Thank you for telling me. I might not swear at Lord Cailan when I see him now.”

Widukind let out a pained and half-hearted laugh. “At least one good thing came out of this then.” He groaned as he lay back down into the mattress, not having realized that his muscles had clenched into knots until that moment. “With any luck we won’t have to try that again any time soon.”

“That would be preferable.” She waited a moment to give him time to recover before she added. “Not to trade one worrying thing for another, Sweeting, but I have something to tell as well.”

He winced as he grabbed a blanket to toss over his sore muscles. “Yes, mo chroí?”

“Well, two things really,” Myst sighed. “First, the man I told you about, you probably already know but he’s left Wrord. A few months back and without a trace. Last seen heading north east.”

He sighed, “That would explain why Wrord’s spymaster has been refusing to answer my questions. Ass that he is, he’s probably trying to sidestep the issue.” He paused a moment. “What’s the second thing?”

“Well, that in the letter I wrote to Cailan, I mentioned, with as few details as possible, that I had become particularly attached to someone in Cragas.” She took a deep breath.

He blinked a few times and nearly laughed at his inability to catch a break. “Well… feck.” He took a moment to breathe. “That’s going to be interesting later on.”

“Yes… He has expressed interest in meeting this person when he comes to town.” 

“I figured,” Widukind replied. “I… must admit I’m not sure how to work with that.”

“Well,” Myst sighed. “We have months to think about how to approach it. Considering everything I know now, he will probably be a very valuable ally for us. Eventually.”

“I hope you’re right, mo chroí. It’s not like he won’t figure it out within an hour or two of being in the city.” He winced, suddenly very aware of how prolific the rumor mill surrounding them was.

Myst laughed softly, “True. A handsome shop owner and a dazzling bard. Kind of obvious.”

He snorted, “I don’t know if I’d say handsome but the rest is true.” He let out a chuckle, “Gods. You are absolutely irresistible, you know that?” He made sure to mix equal parts awe and tease into that last remark, hoping to fluster her. 

It must have worked because her voice gave that little wavering tell as she said “Well, I’d heard it once or twice but from a dashing, intensely clever man like yourself? I suppose I’m beginning to learn.” 

“You’re blushing again, aren’t you mo chroí?” he teased.

“Not at all!” Mystriss protested, unconvincingly. “I’ll have you know I am a bard of Glamour! It takes more than that to make me blush! Why, I recited sensual poetry without blushing!” 

He raised his brow, cracking a devilish grin as he said, “Sure, Myst. Funny how I distinctly remember your cheeks turning red when last I-”

She rushed to cut him off, unable to stand that particular brand of teasing. “That’s enough out of you, Sir!” She demanded playfully. “We’ll continue this argument when I come back. Not one more word now.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” he said, his voice dropping to the seductive tones that made her mind short circuit. “I still haven’t gotten back at you for that message last time we talked.”

“Hopefully you have had some sweet dreams then?” she teased. “I have to make do with a cold bedroll and being constantly surrounded by my companions.”

“A crying shame, mo chroí. I suppose it’s a good thing that I’ve been coming up with a few new ideas then, hm?” he returned, knowing he had the upper hand.

“Sweet talker,” was all Myst managed to reply with.

He chuckled, a smug grin working its way onto his face. “Either way, you should get some sleep, Myst. I’m sure you have a long day ahead tomorrow.”

“I suppose,” she pouted. “Thank you for telling me everything, Sweeting. Please get some sleep yourself. I miss you.”

His tone took on a more somber note. “I miss you too, mo chroí. Stay safe. And come home soon.”

“I will.”

He dropped the stone back onto his bare chest and rested his head on the pillow below. Sleep was soon to follow and his dreams were all peaceful scenes of her.


	26. Interlude 4

Widukind’s last talk with Myst had been exactly what he needed to get back on track in multiple ways. He managed to contact the spymaster of Wrord with his new intel and frogmarch him into sharing his files which were sent over promptly via teleportation circle. From there he tasked several agents to follow leads concerning the DeMors family and the supposed origin of Hadrian. Five days later he received alarming news.

His eyes took on a hard gleam as he read the report.

_On receipt of your order we searched the family records of one Hadrian DeMors and traced his family to the town of Cillia, northeast of Ironback Canyon. The noble house has been in steep decline for over three decades, resulting in the sale of their surrounding estate. The manse remains in the family’s possession but has been without a master for the past six years as the heir left suddenly and in great speed after the death of his father._

_The locals are unwilling to speak of the family and expressed concerns that its members have had strange dealings with unknown visitors. There are also slim reports of various townsfolk disappearing after entering the manse. It is unclear as to how accurate these reports are as the information was never recorded in a local leger._

_One such account rumors that the previous lord had begun to go mad after returning from a hunting trip in the canyon. The target of your inquiry was confirmed to be the son of this man but has rarely been seen by the townsfolk, staying primarily at the manse while he was in town._

_We followed the information you provided to trace him to Wrord where he spent some time with the Horthos family. Relying on the report presented by the spymaster there, we confirmed that he spent copious amounts of time in the company of Flynn Horthos before the young lord’s death._

_During this time, he collected information on a temple near the bleed. This temple was previously investigated by the crows on a mission you may be familiar with as you yourself were assigned to the squad involved. This mission resulted in the deaths of over a dozen agents, including former spymaster Esborn, and the collapsing of this temple._

_We believe that DeMors’ investigation led him to a previously obscured entrance to the structure. Once we arrived, we found that the tunnel had been collapsed via artificial means and believe this to be the work of DeMors and his associates. We also located the corpse of a human male that carried a signet ring. We later confirmed this to be the body of Flynn Horthos._

_At the time we came to this conclusion, Lord Horthos became aware of our inquiry and ordered a full copy of this report as it is likely that the actions of DeMors led directly to the death of his son. We were also made aware that the new Horthos heir is the changeling that was attacked during the landing ceremony in the square._

_This woman, Mystriss “Layla” Horthos, has been traveling for some time after the death of the previous heir on the lord’s behest in an attempt to gather much of the same information included here. She was raised in the Horthos household and became engaged to..._

Widukind scanned the rest, most of it being a detailed report on Myst and her activities since reaching Cragas. It disturbed him that they knew so much about her and so little about the man she was chasing. Sighing in frustration, he locked the report in his hidden safe, intending to share it with Myst when she came back, if not sooner. He was not looking forward to the pain that conversation would bring.

As he finished securing the compartment, he heard Gunnvar call out from the front of the shop. “Widukind? Are you here.”

Taking a deep breath he replied “In the office,  bráthair .” He hadn’t spoken with his brother since their argument the week before, sending missives instead of meeting face-to-face. Part of it was needing more time to cool off. But another part was desperately wanting to find the words to apologize for his own behavior. The revelation he dropped had been anything but pleasant and was, truthfully, a shameful act made to lash out at someone undeserving. 

As Gunnvar rounded the corner, Widukind noticed he was wearing civilian clothes and carrying a bottle of whiskey, a tired look on his face. Concerned the younger sibling raised his brow and said, “Is everything alright?”

Gunnvar sighed heavily, “I… not particularly brother. I wanted to come by and… apologize.”

Widukind blinked in confusion, “Why? I should be-”

“Stop,” his brother cut him off. “We both are at fault for different things here. I just wanted to talk with my little brother… and maybe get raging drunk instead of thinking about this damn wedding.”

Widukind cracked a grin as he chuckled, “That I can get behind.”

They moved to the kitchen to talk about everything that had been going on. Most of it was just surface level ranting and bullshit but the tone started turning a little more serious as they got four or five shots in.

Gunnvar groaned, “I don’t even know what this woman looks like! How the hell am I supposed to make this work?”

“Feck if I know bráthair,” he replied. “Have you tried writing her or something? Maybe she has a winning personality.” He shot his brother a smirk.

“Pfft!” Gunnvar scoffed. “Not all of us can date approachable bards, Widukind.”

Widukind laughed as he threw his head back and thought of the woman in question, a soft smile coming over his face. Gunnvar raised his eyebrow, seeing his brother’s tender expression. “How’s that going, by the way?” he asked. 

Widukind let out a happy sigh, “She’s fecking perfect, Gunnvar. I don’t even know how to keep up sometimes.”

“Oh?” his brother asked, giving him a mischievous grin. 

Widukind’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What?”

“Nothing, just noting how gods damn smitten you are,” he laughed. 

Widukind laughed to himself a little before responding, taking on a somber tone. “I just want her to be happy, bráthair. Even if I can’t give her the life she deserves.”

Gunnvar grunted. “None of us ever really get that little brother. From what I can tell, she’s stubborn enough to make it work.”

That brought a small smile back to Widukind’s face. “You don’t know the half of it.”


	27. 3rd Sending call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We defeated the Autumn Lady and are resting at Geoff's old farm for another day when it is Friday once again. Boyfriend call.

Myst decided to go to the roof of the barn with Rhea for the call with Widukind. The order members down below were loud with conversation and laughter as they chatted, annoying a healing Tiatha as much as entertaining her. 

“Widukind?” she began.

She heard a sigh from the other end as he replied. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear your voice, mo chroí.”

Myst smiled. “Well you can always call me, Sweeting. I’ve mostly only been traveling and would have happily heard your wonderful voice instead.”

“Would that I could, Myst,” he chuckled. “I’ve been busy lately. There are some things going on that have the city prepping for high alert.”

“Is it this noble wedding going on in a few months?” she asked as Rhea snuggled into her lap. “I heard about it from a messenger in Smoothebell.”

He sighed again. “Yeah. It’s pretty high profile. Gunnvar is getting married to a half-elf from Imammelle.”

Myst blinked in surprise, “Really? Who?”

“I haven’t been given her name yet. He’s a little more preoccupied with jumping into an arranged marriage. His mother’s losing her shit,” he scoffed. “Not that that’s to be unexpected. The banshee would be pissed if anything happened without her input.”

“So she’s one of  _ those _ noblewomen? Poor Gunnvar,” Myst said as she idly preened Rhea’s feathers. “Why an arranged marriage though?”

She could practically hear him run his hand through his hair. “It’s a personal favor for the Queen. The woman is the daughter of a high ranking drow and an accomplished wizard. Marrying her would allow for better border relations and solidify joint military operations.” He snorted. “And my idiot brother is too honorable to say no to crown and country.”

Myst chuckled, “I’ve known men like that. It can be terribly annoying. These kinds of arrangements are somewhat common but still. If he does really go through with it, I just hope for all our sakes that she’s nice. Maybe even with a sense of humor.” She sighed. “I don’t know all the nobles of Imammelle but, we can hope at least.”

“Ha! Gods knows he needs something like that. I just hope the poor woman can deal with Cornelia. That harpy is a raging bitch.” He said the last bit with more than a little bitterness, indicating his extreme distaste for the woman.

“Well if she’s anything like the archfey we fought yesterday,” Myst said as she plucked a loose feather from the griffon. “Gunnvar and his fiance have my full sympathy and I will of course be happy to help bring her down a peg or two when the time comes.”

Widukind took in a sharp breath. “Archfey? I thought you were going to a monastery?”

“We are, but we were stopping at Geoff’s old family farm along the way. Sorry, I thought I told you already before we left.” She said before explaining everything she could about Geoff’s new found connections with the Ehrlking and their task to take down the Lady of Autumn.

He must have been taking a drink of something because she could hear him choke on it as she tossed out the fey’s title. “Wait, wait, wait! Did you just say the Lady of Autumn? As in the harbinger of the wyld hunt?” 

“Yes, she had all but destroyed the people in the village near the farm but we managed to save some people. Of course it wasn’t anywhere near simple or easy.”

“ _ Feck _ Myst, I should say not! Any archfey is a bitch and a half to deal with, let alone one that high ranking.” She could hear a string of fear enter his voice for a split second before he buried it again, following it up in a more somber tone. “I’m just glad you’re safe. The upper echelons of any court have ways of messing with your mind.”

“Oh she did,” Myst growled at the memory of how they had all been tricked. “She lured Tiatha, our sort of local wyld court contact, into a trap and managed to convince us that she was Tiatha instead. Even when she had actually fallen into a local danger zone as well. There was a whole day where we were healing who we  _ thought _ was Tiatha but was really the archbitch and she even flirted with Geoff. I even was teasing him about it for fun all while the real Tiatha was out in the woods slowly bleeding to death!” Myst took a deep breath to try and calm down. “Obviously as soon as we found out the truth and dealt with the evil bitch we went to find the real Tiatha. I felt so guilty I had to help find her. She’s going to be fine now, just needs some time to rest and recover.”

Widukind waited patiently for her to finish. When he finally spoke again, his voice seemed a little hollow in the same way it did while he was having flashbacks. “Damn… I’m glad to hear she’s alright.”

Myst frowned at the distant tone as she tried to figure out how to respond. Should she try to distract him or ask him about whatever it was? It was more than likely something he couldn’t tell her anyway and delving into something so deep over sending stones wasn’t right. She wanted to be next to him, to look at his face in person. “Me too,” she replied lamely.

Fortunately he seemed to come back to himself, changing the topic. “I’m afraid I don’t have much news on that archer or the person you were researching. I did manage to look into it, but… it’s not promising.”

“He is a slippery  _ fils de pute _ .” Myst cursed. “All I know about him are the lies or half-truths he told the nobles in Wrord. He was so charming that everyone fell for it. And now he’s collecting dangerous fey artifacts that can literally turn the world inside out.”

Widukind sighed. “Well, I can share what I’ve found, but it’s already been passed on to Lord Horthos. It’s kind of hard to keep this kind of thing from someone of his station.”

“Of course.” Myst sighed, still unsure of how she was going to face her uncle in the future.

“At the very least, he is who he said he was. We traced his family to the south of Cragas Hold along the border with Asnar. They’ve been in decline for several decades and the people there have had… strange things to say,” he said, sounding equal parts miffed and perplexed.

“Like what?”

“Well,” Widukind said, gathering his thoughts. “The last lord went insane on a hunting trip over a decade ago. Villagers kept reporting that they’d receive strange visitors at all hours. And, honestly, that’s not the strangest bit.”

“Go on,” Myst prompted as she finished a final finger brush of Rhea’s feathers, the baby griffon chirping happily.

“The old Lord died the night before Hadrian left and no one, not even local Queensguard questioned it. My agents found no sign of corruption. It just… wasn’t thought of.” He paused for a moment and she could hear him shuffling papers in the background. “After that he disappears for about six months before just magically appearing in Wrord and cozying up to high society all while looking for information on that temple. Which he shouldn’t have even known about, mind you! I personally saw that thing collapse in on itself nearly fifteen years ago.”

“You saw it collapse?” Myst said pausing and staring out over the farm with wide eyes. 

“I… one of my first assignments as a crow was to take out a cult that had been excavating the site,” he said. “Shit went south and I was the only one that made it out. But that’s besides the point, Myst. No one should have known that structure was there. Even Lord Horthos didn’t know its exact location.”

“I,” Myst struggled for a moment as hundreds of thoughts went through her mind, memories of that time, when Hadrian and Flynn planned to investigate the ruins while Cailan was away. Memories that she had played over and over in her mind ever since Flynn’s death. She shook her head as she tried to keep to the present.

Widukind seemed to sense her distress and said, “Mo chroí, if this is too much we can wait until you get back-”

“No it’s-” Myst sighed, “It’s fine. This whole situation is just filled with holes and I hate it. What cult was in the ruins? The one from almost fifteen years ago?”

He sighed but let her continue the conversation as he replied. “It was never clear. All we knew was that they were after something powerful and had been killing off crows left and right to keep the area secure. I remember some of the iconography belonging to the winter court but I’m not sure that they were really aligned with it.” He took a deep breath. “Myst, there’s more. And… you’ll want to sit down for it if you’re not already.”

Myst had shifted in her agitation enough to spur Rhea out of her lap and now sat with her knees curled up and her arms wrapped tight around herself even before the evening breeze turned chilly. “What is it?”

“I had my agents look into the route Hadrian and… and Flynn took into the temple. They didn’t find much but they’re sure that the cave in was completely man made. And… they found a body.”

Myst froze. “Was it…?”

“I… yes. They returned him to the estate earlier this week.” Widukind’s voice was filled with worry and shared grief as he told her this. “I’m sorry mo chroí. I wish I could be there with you now instead of telling you like this.”

Tears poured down her cheeks as she tried to speak without fully breaking down, at least not yet. “I- I do too,” she sobbed. “At least he’s finally back home.” She rubbed at the tears even as Rhea chirped at her in concern, rubbing her feathered head into her shoulder and back in comfort. “Thank you for telling me, Widukind. I,” she sighed shakily. “I knew Hadrien was behind it, but I had no proof.”

Widukind took a breath as he said, “I know it’s not much, but with what we have we’ve put out a bounty on his head. I made sure to tell Gunnvar to keep you informed.” He paused. “Myst… mo chroí… if you need to visit Wrord instead of coming back here you should. It might help.” He took a deep breath before he continued. “I know I haven’t told you much, about myself I mean. But trust me when I say I understand.”

Myst sighed some of the tension away. “I do trust you, Sweeting. I don’t know about going back to Wrord just yet. Even to visit his grave. I left on a mission, it wouldn’t feel right to go back without at least more figured out. I,” she hesitated but then continued with more determination. “I will use my ink to message Uncle about it. It might make him question how I heard about it but I want to at least do that.”

Widukind’s voice was tender as he replied. “Do what you need to, Myst. The council has cleared keeping you in the loop on this matter so it shouldn’t be an issue.” He seemed to hesitate a little as well before continuing. “Mo chroí, I just… can you promise me something?”

“Of course, Sweeting.”

She could hear a sad smile on his lips as he said, “If it gets to be too much, promise me you’ll talk to someone. Even if it’s not me. I know you tend to bottle things up and it’s not healthy. I’ve been down that road and it only makes things worse.”

Myst felt fresh tears welling up at the tenderness of his voice and suggestion and sighed with a sad smile. “I will. It’s not like I can hide much from anyone between you and the others.” She choked out a laugh. “Moolan’s already been asking me if I need to talk about anything. I don’t think I can resist any longer.” Myst sighed the last of her tension away.

“Then don’t mo chroí. It doesn’t matter what you talk about or how much you say. Just get it out. It’s a lot better than letting it eat you up inside.”

“I don’t know what I can say about the crows to them but,” Myst paused, finally giving Rhea some attention with some head rubs to show that her mamma would be okay. “I’ll talk to them.”

“Good. And don’t be afraid to tell them anything Myst. I may not be able to share much, but what we’re going through? What we have? Don’t be afraid to talk about it. I know there’s plenty you don’t feel like you can tell me.” His voice took on a gentle teasing tone. “Now dry your tears, mo chroí. You’re too beautiful to stay sad.”

Myst laughed, fully this time. “As if I could hide anything from you, Mr. Master Spy. You already know everything about me and what you don’t know I tell you at the drop of a hat.”

“You’d be surprised, Myst,” he chuckled before returning to a more tender note. “You surprise me every damn day.”

“Sweet talker.” Myst blushed. “You surprise me too. You are one of a kind.”

“Careful,” he warned. “Much more of that and you’ll over inflate my ego. Besides,” he chuckled. “I don’t think the world could handle two of me.”

“Now there’s a pleasant thought,” Myst teased. “Two of you?.... No, I’m not sure even I could handle that.”

“With the homecoming I’ve planned for you?” he said with a smolder. “Probably not.”

“I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see,” Myst sighed again, this time much more happily. “I’ll try to come back quickly, whether we go to Wrord or not.”

His tone shifted back to a gentle one. “Take your time, Myst. Now get some rest. Codladh sámh, mo chroí. Sleep well.”

“I will now, I think. Good night, Sweeting.”


	28. Third Sending Call - Widukind's POV

Widukind was sitting at his desk with a glass of whiskey when Myst called his name over the sending stone that night. He’d pulled the file on Hadrian to talk to her and wasn’t exactly looking forward to that particular conversation, but her voice brought the same sense of peace with it that it always did and he couldn’t help but smile faintly as he replied.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear your voice, mo chroí,” he said with a sigh.

He could hear her smile across the way as she said, “Well you can always call me, Sweeting. I’ve mostly only been traveling and would have happily heard your wonderful voice instead.”

He chuckled a bit. “Would that I could, Myst. I’ve been busy lately. There are some things going on that have the city prepping for high alert.” He nearly groaned as he thought about the preparations for Gunnvar’s wedding. It was already turning into a shit show. 

She seemed well informed as always as she asked him for more information. “Is it this noble wedding going on in a few months? I heard about it from a messenger in Smoothebell,” she asked, Rhea chirping on her end.

He sighed again. “Yeah. It’s pretty high profile. Gunnvar is getting married to a half-elf from Imammelle.”

He could hear her gears turning as she worked through the surprise. “Really? Who?”

Widukind had been asking himself the same thing, actually. It wasn’t often he didn’t know about someone, but Gunnvar had insisted that he keep his nose out of the older sibling’s nuptials. “I haven’t been given her name yet. He’s a little more preoccupied with jumping into an arranged marriage. His mother’s losing her shit,” he scoffed. “Not that that’s to be unexpected. The banshee would be pissed if anything happened without her input.”

He tried to shake off the mood damper that was Cornelia, but he’d managed to spark Myst’s curiosity. “So she’s one of  _ those _ noblewomen? Poor Gunnvar,” Myst winced. “Why an arranged marriage though?”

He ran his hand through his hair as he let out a breath. “It’s a personal favor for the Queen. The woman is the daughter of a high ranking drow and an accomplished wizard. Marrying her would allow for better border relations and solidify joint military operations.” He snorted. “And my idiot brother is too honorable to say no to crown and country.”

Myst chuckled, “I’ve known men like that. It can be terribly annoying. These kinds of arrangements are somewhat common but still. If he does really go through with it, I just hope for all our sakes that she’s nice. Maybe even with a sense of humor.” She sighed. “I don’t know all the nobles of Imammelle but, we can hope at least.”

“Ha! Gods knows he needs something like that. I just hope the poor woman can deal with Cornelia. That harpy is a raging bitch.” He said the last bit with more than a little bitterness, thinking back to the hag’s last bout of insults. 

“Well if she’s anything like the archfey we fought yesterday,” Myst said, making all other thoughts grind to a halt, “Gunnvar and his fiance have my full sympathy and I will of course be happy to help bring her down a peg or two when the time comes.”

Widukind took in a sharp breath, trying to fight off a wave of panic. “Archfey? I thought you were going to a monastery?”

“We are, but we were stopping at Geoff’s old family farm along the way. Sorry I thought I told you already before we left.” She said before explaining everything she could about Geoff’s new found connections with the Ehrlking and their task. 

He’d nearly recovered and was taking a sip of his whiskey when she dropped the archfey’s title. “Wait, wait, wait! Did you just say the Lady of Autumn? As in the harbinger of the wyld hunt?” he asked, trying not to spit out his drink.

“Yes, she had all but destroyed the people in the village near the farm but we managed to save some of them. Of course it wasn’t anywhere near simple or easy.” She said it like it was nothing new and it drove him crazy in unhappy ways.

“ _ Feck _ Myst, I should say not! Any archfey is a bitch and a half to deal with, let alone one that high ranking,” he exclaimed, hoping he had reined in the fear that always shook him when this sort of thing came up. He desperately tried to push down the memories of the bleed and Byron as he took on a more somber tone. “I’m just glad you’re safe. The upper echelons of any court have ways of messing with your mind.”

“Oh she did,” Myst growled, making his fear double. “She lured Tiatha, our sort of local wyld court contact, into a trap and managed to convince us that she was Tiatha instead. Even when she had actually fallen into a local danger zone as well. There was a whole day where we were healing who we  _ thought _ was our guide but was really the archbitch and she even flirted with Geoff. I even was teasing him about it for fun all while the real Tiatha was out in the woods slowly bleeding to death!” Myst took a deep breath to try and calm down. “Obviously as soon as we found out the truth and dealt with the evil bitch we went to find the real Tiatha. I felt so guilty I had to help find her. She’s going to be fine now, just needs some time to rest and recover.”

Her story made it impossible for him to fight off the flashbacks and his hand shook around his glass. “Damn… I’m glad to hear she’s alright,” he said as he clung onto the here and now. He could tell she was at a loss as she gave a quiet response and he rushed forward to change the subject.

He shook his head and looked down at the documents on his desk, dreading what he was about to tell her. “I’m afraid I don’t have much news on that archer or the person you were researching. I did manage to look into it, but… it’s not promising.”

“He is a slippery  _ fils de pute _ .” Myst cursed. “All I know about him are the lies or half-truths he told the nobles in Wrord. He was so charming that everyone fell for it. And now he’s collecting dangerous fey artifacts that can literally turn the world inside out.”

Widukind sighed, dreading the coming conversation. “Well, I can share what I’ve found, but it’s already been passed on to Lord Horthos. It’s kind of hard to keep this kind of thing from someone of his station.”

“Of course.” Myst sighed, probably thinking over  _ that _ coming fiasco. 

Widukind took a deep breath and tried not to let most of his frustration seep through as he said, “At the very least, he is who he said he was. We traced his family to the south of Cragas Hold along the border with Asnar. They’ve been in decline for several decades and the people there have had… strange things to say.”

“Like what?” she asked.

“Well,” Widukind said, gathering his thoughts. “The last lord went insane on a hunting trip over a decade ago. Villagers kept reporting that they’d receive strange visitors at all hours. And, honestly, that’s not the strangest bit.”

“Go on,” Myst prompted as he heard Rhea purr on the other end.

“The old Lord died the night before Hadrian left and no one, not even local Queensguard questioned it. My agents found no sign of corruption. It just… wasn’t thought of.” He paused for a moment as he sorted through the papers. “After that he disappears for about three years before just magically appearing in Wrord and cozying up to high society all while looking for information on that temple. Which he shouldn’t have even known about, mind you! I personally saw that thing collapse in on itself nearly fifteen years ago.” He ground out the last bit, thinking of how Esborn had died to make it happen.

He realized the context of what he’d said and inwardly cursed himself as Myst asked, “You saw it collapse?” a tremor creeping into her voice.

“I… one of my first assignments as a crow was to take out a cult that had been excavating the site,” he said, wishing he could retroactively take his foot out of his mouth. “Shit went south and I was the only one that made it out. But that’s besides the point, Myst,” he said, trying to refocus. “No one should have known that structure was there. Even Lord Horthos didn’t know its exact location.”

He could tell she was struggling and he mentally kicked himself for not handling it more delicately. Trying to remedy the situation he offered to wait until she got back to talk about it further. 

“No it’s-” Myst sighed, “It’s fine. This whole situation is just filled with holes and I hate it. What cult was in the ruins? The one from almost fifteen years ago?”

He sighed but let her continue the conversation as he replied. “It was never clear. All we knew was that they were after something powerful and had been killing off crows left and right to keep the area secure. I remember some of the iconography belonging to the winter court but I’m not sure that they were really aligned with it.” He took a deep breath, preparing for the worst of what he was going to tell her. “Myst, there’s more. And… you’ll want to sit down for it if you’re not already.”

He could practically feel her curling in on herself from miles away. Her voice had taken on a soft, shaky whisper as she asked “What is it?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could be with her instead of uselessly at a desk in Cragas. “I had my agents look into the route Hadrian and… and Flynn took into the temple.” He stumbled over her fiance’s name, still uncomfortable thinking about the man. “They didn’t find much but they’re sure that the cave in was completely man made. And… they found a body.”

He heard her suck a breath in through her teeth, making his heart wrench as she asked the obvious. “Was it…?”

“I… yes. They returned him to the estate earlier this week.” He stomped down a pang of jealousy at her reaction. How fecking sick did he have to be to be jealous of a dead man? He shook his head, focusing on her and her needs to chase the ghosts away. “I’m sorry mo chroí. I wish I could be there with you now instead of telling you like this.”

“I- I do too,” she sobbed. “At least he’s finally back home.” He knew she was crying and in pain and it made his chest ache as he wished to be by her side, even if the tears were for another man. Part of him knew that she’d chosen him, but so much of him wondered if she would make the same decision had the Horthos heir still been alive.  _ Probably not _ , he thought, wishing he wasn’t so damn pathetic.

Her voice brought him back to himself as she whispered. “Thank you for telling me, Widukind. I,” she sighed shakily. “I knew Hadrien was behind it, but I had no proof.”

Widukind took a breath as he said, “I know it’s not much, but with what we have we’ve put out a bounty on his head. I made sure to tell Gunnvar to keep you informed.” He paused, forcing down his pride and doing what he could to let those horrid feelings of inadequacy go. “Myst… mo chroí… if you need to visit Wrord instead of coming back here you should. It might help.” He took a deep breath before he continued. “I know I haven’t told you much, about myself I mean. But trust me when I say I understand.”

He heard her sigh again as she tried to collect herself. “I do trust you, Sweeting. I don’t know about going back to Wrord just yet. Even to visit his grave. I left on a mission, it wouldn’t feel right to go back without at least more figured out. I,” she hesitated but then continued with more determination. “I will use my ink to message Uncle about it. It might make him question how I heard about it but I want to at least do that.”

Widukind’s voice was tender as he replied. “Do what you need to, Myst. The council has cleared keeping you in the loop on this matter so it shouldn’t be an issue.” He thought for a moment about what he wanted to ask before continuing. “Mo chroí, I just… can you promise me something?”

“Of course, Sweeting,” she said, bringing a sad smile to his lips.

“If it gets to be too much, promise me you’ll talk to someone. Even if it’s not me. I know you tend to bottle things up and it’s not healthy.” He remembered the night Gunnvar came to the shop after she went missing and said,”I’ve been down that road and it only makes things worse.”

“I will. It’s not like I can hide much from anyone between you and the others.” She choked out a laugh. “Moolan’s already been asking me if I need to talk about anything. I don’t think I can resist any longer.”

“Then don’t mo chroí,” he said softly. “It doesn’t matter what you talk about or how much you say. Just get it out. It’s a lot better than letting it eat you up inside.”

Her reply was tired and a little worrisome. “I don’t know what I can say about the crows to them but,” Myst paused, “I’ll talk to them.”

His smile became a little more genuine as she said that. “Good. And don’t be afraid to tell them anything Myst. I may not be able to share much, but what we’re going through? What we have? Don’t be afraid to talk about it,” he said. “I know there’s plenty you don’t feel like you can tell me.” His voice took on a gentle teasing tone. “Now dry your tears, mo chroí. You’re too beautiful to stay sad.”

Myst laughed, fully this time. “As if I could hide anything from you, Mr. Master Spy. You already know everything about me and what you don’t know I tell you at the drop of a hat.”

“You’d be surprised, Myst,” he chuckled before returning to a more tender note. “You surprise me every damn day.”

“Sweet talker.” Myst accused, likely blushing. “You surprise me too. You are one of a kind.”

“Careful,” he warned with a chuckle. “Much more of that and you’ll over inflate my ego. Besides,” he laughed. “I don’t think the world could handle two of me.”

“Now there’s a pleasant thought,” Myst teased, more of her usual fire creeping back in. “Two of you?.... No, I’m not sure even I could handle that.”

“With the homecoming I’ve planned for you?” he said with a grin. “Probably not.” She took a moment to laugh a bit before responding.

“I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see,” Myst sighed again, this time much more happily. “I’ll try to come back quickly, whether we go to Wrord or not.”

His tone shifted back to a gentle one, content that she was feeling more stable. “Take your time, Myst. Now get some rest. Codladh sámh, mo chroí. Sleep well.”

“I will now, I think. Good night, Sweeting.” She left it at that, letting him sit for a moment as he lost himself in thought.

That nagging insecurity crept back into his mind and he cursed himself for how foolishly jealous he was of Flynn Horthos. That man had been everything she deserved. A happy home, the promise of a family, a relationship she could actually be public about. How the feck was he supposed to measure up to that?

He downed the rest of his drink with a frown and sighed. He didn’t deserve her, but damn him if he wasn’t going to try anyway.


	29. Interlude 5

The next morning was an uneventful one. Widukind tended the shop, sent out several new assignments, and caught up on reports. He’d given the fledges a day off, at least all of the ones working with him, and actually had time to kick back and read a book. Fecking wild. 

The atmosphere went on well into the afternoon, shite the sky was even clear all damn day and he didn’t have to deal with any unruly customers. He had just finished the book, a collection of old Elvish short stories, nothing too heavy or involved. As he closed the volume he heard a sound from the back, immediately putting him on alert. 

He slipped a punch knife from its sheath, sliding it to a ready position between his fingers as he crept to the back room. He heard shuffling from up the stairs as he stepped into the hallway and made his silent way up, avoiding any creeks through a mix of skill and memory. He was about to toe his way into his room when a fist flew from the doorway, narrowly missing his face as he threw his head back.

The assailant made their way into the hall, pressing the advantage and grazing his cheek. He managed to bat their hand away using his shortened arm as he landed a kick to their knee, making the limb buckle. 

It was at that point that their appearance registered as the one belonging to the elf he’d seen weeks before. She grunted as her leg dropped, but recovered with a floor sweep, forcing him to retreat down the stairs. Seeing that he was losing his footing, he threw his knife and reached for another as the blade sunk into her shoulder. 

As her braids whipped around her neck he caught sight of a large scar taking up most of the left side. He catalogued it for later research as he danced back up the stairs to knee her in the face.

With a sickening crack, he felt her nose break under the contact and used his momentum to bring her the rest of the way to the ground. Unfortunately for him, his ribs hadn’t healed completely and she seemed to notice him wince at the pain. She pulled a dagger of her own and buried it in his side, making him shout at the intrusion. 

With that she kicked him off and rolled to her feet, backing away with her hands in the air. “Where’s Gwyllen?” she asked, husky voice coming out in a growl.

The adrenaline and the presence of a homicidal elf drowned out any reason he had left. Without responding, he rushed her again, delivering a roundhouse kick to what should have been her temple. Instead, she blocked with her arm and ground out. “I’m not here to kill you boy. Where’s the spymaster?”

The question threw him off, no one should have known about his predecessor unless they were connected to the Crows in the first place. Grinding his teeth, he spat out “No idea what you’re talking about.”

Her eyes narrowed as she looked him up and down. “That’s a load of shite, gasúr. I know a Crow when I see one.”

He ripped the dagger from his side and slashed at her with it in response, forcing her to dance around him in order to keep from being pinned against the wall. “Gabh tarsainn ort fhèin bitch! Now get the hell out of my shop!”

Her eyes went wide as she looked him over one final time before darting down and out the back door. He gripped the bleeding wound as he stumbled downstairs, the adrenaline rapidly leaving his system, and sounded a general alarm for all of the agents nearby.

Crushing the crystal that would key them in to the situation, he shouted, “Suspect is a female elf, middle aged, brown hair, brown eyes, leaving the shop with a broken nose and several other contusions. She’s well trained and armed and has knowledge of the Crows. Lethal action is sanctioned.” 

With that he slumped to the floor, pressing his hand against the wound on his side as blood poured from it. He swore to himself, realizing that he was rapidly becoming dizzy, and tried to stand only to find himself unable. He heard Domovoi’s voice echoing through the shop as his old friend thundered in. Whatever he said was lost to the roaring noise in Widukind’s ears as blackness began to creep across his vision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gasúr - boy  
> Gabh tarsainn ort fhèin - literally "Go across yourself" but roughly means "Go fuck yourself"


	30. Interlude 6

When Widukind woke he was in his bed, missing his shirt and his torso covered in bandages. He winced as he tried to sit up and panicked as he realized that his sending stone wasn’t in its usual place. Eyes shifting around the room, he relaxed as he spotted it on his bedside table. He had reached out to grab it and was about to tug the chord down over his head when his bedroom door opened.

To his surprise, he saw Gunnvar walking in with a worried expression, the older brother’s face betraying heaps of concern as he rushed to Widukind’s bedside. “Lay back down little brother. You shouldn’t be up right now.”

He was about to protest when he felt a wave of dizziness hit and he was forced to support himself on his hand. “What happened?” he asked instead.

“You were attacked,” his brother replied. “You managed to fend off the assailant but they escaped. I have the entire guard on high alert as well as your agents. You’re lucky to be alive right now.”

Widukind slipped the stone around his neck as he lay down the rest of the way. “How long was I out?”

Gunnvar pressed his lips together in worry. “A few days. You lost a lot of blood. Domovoi and Alex found you in a pool of it.”

“ _ Feck _ ,” he hissed, shifting to grip the scars on his other arm. “What about the elf? Did they capture her at least?”

Gunnvar seemed to contemplate whether or not to tell him something, opening his mouth slightly before closing it again. Widukind would have seen it on anyone, but he was especially attuned to his brother’s habits after serving as his bodyguard all those years ago. “Bráthair, what is it?”

The older sibling cleared his throat. “She got away. And… she killed several agents in her escape. I pressured the council into talking about the situation.”

“And?” Widukind asked, feeling his patience beginning to slip.

Gunnvar took a deep breath. “They won’t tell me much, but they’ve agreed to include you and the usual chain of command so long as we don’t investigate her identity.”

Widukind blinked a moment before growling, “What kind of shite is that? The bitch nearly  _ kills _ me and I’m allowed to hunt her down as long as I don’t ask questions? The feck is going on?!”

Gunnvar ran a hand over his eyes. “I’m just as frustrated as you Wid. I don’t like the idea of a madwoman attacking my family twice and getting away with it.” The older brother looked up to meet the eyes of the younger. “Whatever it is, it’s being kept to a restricted amount of people. At the very least I managed to get them to send a healer to speed your recovery. I know you talk to Myst on Fridays and figured you wouldn’t want her to worry if you didn’t answer.”

Widukind swore quietly at that. He didn’t want to cause her any more stress than she’d already endured and was unsure if he’d be up to much of anything when she next contacted him. “Go raibh maith agat bráthair,” he said. “She shouldn’t have to worry about me. Gods know she has enough on her plate.”

He watched as his half-brother nodded, finally noticing that Gunnvar had come in carrying a tray of food. “Please tell me that’s mine,” Widukind said, cracking a passable but fake grin. “I’m starving.”

For the first time in the entire conversation, he watched as his brother chuckled. “I figured you would be, little brother. Have at it.”

Widukind watched as he set it down and left the room. As he took a bite he wished to whatever gods were listening that his brother would learn how to season food. Why humans liked everything so fecking bland, he would never understand.

As he chewed he thought over his next conversation with Myst and what to tell her, if anything. He only hoped that she wouldn’t catch on to his current status as an invalid.  _ Feck _ he needed to stop getting injured right before talking to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go raibh maith agat bráthair - roughly translates into "Thank you brother"


	31. Interlude 7

Widukind leafed through reports while he sat in bed. He’d forced Gunnvar to give him the casualty list after the elf woman had escaped and reading over the names and designations was like a punch to the gut. 

_Edryn - designation: sleeper agent; half-elf; age twenty-seven_

_Tanalyn - designation: ranger; human; age nineteen_

_Gabon - designation: guardsman; human; age thirty-two_

The list went on for another two or three names before the real heavy hitters came in. Widukind squeezed his eyes shut before continuing on.

_Leanan - designation: fledgeling; half-elf; age fifteen_

_Koby - designation: fledgeling; tiefling; age sixteen_

_Raylee - designation: fledgeling; half-orc; age fifteen_

It was always hell losing an agent. But, at least with those further in their twenties, it was easier to assure himself that this was the life they all had to live. They didn’t choose it, never had the chance to really, but it was the lot they’d been dealt. When it came to the fledges though? He’d strived to make sure that those under his chain of command were given the best opportunity to make it to their second decade. Almost every crow felt the same way and would do their damndest to ready the kids for the hellish existence that being an agent was. 

The worst part was, most of these kids only had one or two people who could really mourn them… It made his lungs seize up with guilt.

A knock at his door pulled him from his reverie as a familiar green dragonborn cracked it open with a grin. “Widukind my friend!” Domovoi shouted, “It’s nice to see you awake.”

The half-elf looked up at his friend with mock annoyance. “Domovoi. Your entrance could wake the dead as per usual.” He caught sight of a young human boy behind him and said. “And you must be Alex, I’d apologize to assigning you to this ass, but he is one of the best shock agents we have.”

Domovoi stepped into the room to let the fledge sign his reply.  _ It’s nice to meet you, sir. _ Widukind had heard the boy was mute as a result of his exam. When he’d reviewed the reports for last year’s graduates, he’d thought that the boy was lucky to be alive. After seeing the scar peeping out of the scarf around the kid’s neck, he had to suppress a sigh at just how right he’d been. 

He gave the kid a nod and looked back to his friend. “So what are you here about? Gunnvar’s already banned me from any actual work.”

“Well,” the dragonborn said, eyeing the papers in his lap. “It looks like you’re staying busy regardless.”

Widukind frowned. “Not exactly. These are the casualty reports.”

His friend sighed in commiseration. “I heard there were fledges on there. Never good to lose one of them.”

The half-elf only grunted in agreement. “Pretty sure I would be on here if it weren’t for you. Thanks.”

“Beg pardon?” Domovoi said, eyes widening in mock shock. “Is the illustrious spymaster  _ thanking  _ me?”

Widukind rolled his eyes, even as he tried to hide a grin. “Watch it. I’ll bust you back down to border patrol if you press me.”

Domovoi’s claw flew up to clutch at his chest in a fit of melodrama. “Ah! And there it is! The sting of betrayal!” He looked over to his apprentice before saying “Take note, dear boy. This is the man we all love to work for!”

To the kid’s credit, Alex rolled his eyes and signed toward Widukind.  _ Are you  _ **_sure_ ** _ he’s the best agent to assign me to? I think he may have hit his head a few too many times while he was still in training. _

Widukind couldn’t suppress a chuckle as his friend let out a fake wail. “Woe is me, for I have no true friends! And I treat you like a son, Alex!” The crow looked back over to Widukind as he said “Either way. Here’s a few copper to get yourself some food. Meet me back at the inn before sundown.” With that he shooed the boy away and turned to sit at a chair near the bedside. 

“So,” Domovoi said. “What’s the real story here?”

Widukind sighed, running his hand through his hair. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Don’t bullshit me, my friend. No one gets the best of you.” His slit eyes flashed a hardened green as he let out a rumble.

Widukind waited for Alex’s footsteps to fade and glanced out the window to make sure the kid was walking down the street before saying “Council only wants us to kill her. Not look into her origin.”

“And that is, how do you say… fecking idiocy,” the other man growled. “What do you know?” 

Widukind leveled the other crow with a stare. “More than I should and less than I’d like. We have a kill on sight order and no leads. Best to just leave it there.”

“Best? Yes. But we both know  _ you _ won’t.” The dragonborn leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “You are like a dog with a bone. You won’t stop gnawing on it until it splinters.”

“First a crow, now a dog,” he said dryly. “Pretty soon I’ll be a damn chimera.”

“Haha,” Domovoi ground out. “Alright. If you won’t tell me anything about that. What  _ will _ you about this upcoming assignment?”

Widukind looked at him, arching an eyebrow. “What about it? It’s just the run of the mill guard duty. Keep an eye on the residents and report back to me if anything potentially threatening occurs.”

For the first time in the years that he’d known Domovoi, Widukind saw him lose his patience. “You are completely stupid if you think I’m blind to something else going on, Widukind. I don’t dick with you, my friend. Don’t do it with me.”

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. “What do you want to know?”

“First,” his friend huffed, “are you and this Mystriss woman fucking?”

“Always right to the chase, aren’t you?” he said. Seeing that his friend was deathly serious he continued. “It’s… complicated.”

Domovoi’s eyes narrowed before widening in realization. “Shit… the two of you are attached, aren’t you?”

Widukind nodded, not wanting to put it to words. His shop was warded against scrying, but you could never be too careful. 

“How long?” the dragonborn asked.

“Technically? Since a few days after she showed up in the city.” He rubbed his tattoo. “We weren’t… against regulation until just before the landing ceremony.”

“Fucking gods, Widukind!” Domovoi hissed. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“And she’d be worth it, old friend,” he shot back. “What else did you want?”

The man picked at his claws as he sat back in thought. “So what’s the real reason for this assignment? You don’t need me for information. Is it protection?”

“Basically,” he replied. “You read the reports. Someone’s out to kill her. I have a few theories as to who, but this is the best I could get her to agree to. I…” Widukind let out a rough breath. “I know I’m an idiot for falling for her. But we’re doing the best we can.”

Domovoi sighed. “Alright. Just… try not to get caught. I’d hate to lose my favorite drinking partner. No one else can keep pace with me.”

Widukind snorted. “I  _ don’t  _ keep pace with you. You drink vodka like it’s fecking water.”

“Better than that lowland whiskey you like!” he laughed. “Either way, I’ll be back to annoy you tomorrow. I think I hear your brother downstairs.”

Widukind noticed Gunnvar’s steps below as Domovoi said that, sighing. “Gods help me. He’s been hovering like a mother hen.” 

“Ha! Good luck with that! I’ll take my leave.” With that the dragonborn stood and paced out in the hall, trading places with Gunnvar just out of eyeshot.

The half brother stepped in with an eyebrow raised. “I thought I said no work, little brother.”

Widukind huffed. “Didn’t say I was working. That bastard’s an old friend.”

“Noted…” his brother replied. “I’ll just go make some dinner.” 

Widukind couldn’t resist calling after him. “Just make sure you  _ actually  _ season it this time! You have the taste buds of a rock!”


	32. 4th Sending Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has been a week since Widukind told her about Flynn's body being found. The Order should reach Sylben's Monastery within the next day.

Myst called out Widukind’s name as she sat further away from the group. She’d missed his voice over the last week as she processed the news he’d given her.

His response was soft, tender even as he answered despite his obvious fatigue. “Hey. How are you, mo chroí?”

“I’m good, Sweeting,” she smiled as she replied. “Always better hearing you though.”

She heard him stretch with a wince, “That’s good to hear. I’m sorry about last week. I wish I could have told you some other way.”

“It’s alright, I am glad you told me. And I did talk with the others. It helped.” She thought back to playing the violin at that scenic spot. “And how are you?”

“Well,” he seemed to hesitate. “I… may or may not be assigned to bed rest for a few weeks.”

Myst frowned. “What happened?”

“For starters,” he seemed to rush out, “I didn’t go out looking for this one. I swear it wasn’t my fault in the slightest.”

“I know that, Sweeting,” she sighed.

“Good… I just know exactly which face you’re making and I would rather not be on your shit list, mo chroí,” he chuckled nervously. His tone quickly faded to something more serious. “Do you remember that investigation the council froze me out of?”

“Yes.”

He sighed, “Well it started with this elf I ran into on patrol a few weeks ago. She somehow knew of my connection to Gunnvar after taking one good look at me and I asked him to look into it.” She could imagine him running his hand through his hair as he was wont to do while frustrated. 

“One of the council members found out and moved to keep both Gunnvar and I out of it. But… that elf broke into the shop a couple of days ago and it... didn’t end well.”

“I assume not if you are on bed rest!” Myst said starting to pace even as she knew she needed to calm down. “And was she pursued for the attack?”

He sighed, sounding angry at the situation. “Yes, but the agents were unsuccessful. She killed half a dozen of them before escaping.  _ Feck _ Myst, some of them were fledges. I just…” He trailed off, expressing his own sense of failure through silence.

“It’s not your fault Widukind,” she tried to reassure him. “I’ve seen a bit of how you fight and know that if she got away from you she is definitely dangerous. Any idea why she was in your shop?”

He let out a defeated sigh, “I… thank you, mo chroí. And it looked like she was trying to meet with the old spymaster. No one currently assigned to this region even knew who he was. That’s really not even the most alarming part.” He took a moment to breathe, trying to gather his thoughts. “She knew he had been spymaster Myst. How the feck is that even possible? There’s no records that I know of and the council still won’t let me look into her identity. Something’s not adding up and I fecking hate it.”

“Well,” Myst mused. “I have some theories but I wouldn’t know how likely they might be.”

“Do share,” he said, sounding increasingly tired.

“Alright, but you should get some more sleep soon.”

He cut her off, “Mo chroí, I have been sleeping off and on all day with no one but my idiot brother for company. Trust me when I say I could use  _ something _ productive to do.”

“Well,” Myst began. “You said she’s an elf so it’s quite possible she’s old enough to have experience with the crows and it was probably years ago when the previous spymaster was in charge. And she may have had high enough access to know who he was and who the Lunahands were. Probably pretty well if she recognized you right off the bat.”

“Sure, but that doesn’t explain the  _ way  _ she looked at me Myst. It was like someone had walked right over her grave. Besides, she fought like a crow. I’ve never met a civilian with that kind of training. And if she were one of us, her mark should have killed her by now for disobedience.”

Myst hummed in thought. “Maybe she’s been on assignment somewhere remote enough to not have gotten news. Surely there’s assignments when agents have to go dark for extended periods.”

“Maybe,” he sighed, “But her tattoo would have still reacted for attacking operatives without clearance. That’s one of the first orders we get out of our exam. And the only thing that can waive it is a majority vote by the council.” He winced again as he shifted. “Either way, she couldn’t be an agent. There’s just no way to remove these damn tattoos without getting yourself killed in the process, and she definitely didn’t have one.”

“Well, I don’t know. Maybe she found a way-”

He rushed to cut her off. “That is not a safe train of thought for me Myst. Or for you for that matter. Even as the Horthos heir, the council would not hesitate to attack you if they thought you were looking into that.” His voice was beyond firm as he tried to get her to walk away from the topic. “There’s a reason it can’t be removed. If there ever was away, they buried the information so deep that no one will ever find it again.”

Myst’s lip thinned at that but she sighed, “Alright.”

“Promise me you won’t look into it, mo chroí,” he asked, a very slight string of fear entering his tone. “We can find a way to make it work, but don’t go looking down that alley.”

“Okay, I promise, Widukind. I won’t look.”

She could hear the tension drain from his shoulders. “I’m sorry. So what was your theory?” 

“Well,” Myst said, grateful for the topic change. “If the council is shutting out some of their most high ranking members of this matter, likely the elf has ties with at least one council member. And If I know nobles, and I do, it’s either a matter they would be ashamed of if it became public or incredibly dangerous to the nation at large. Or both.”

“That’s just it, I know which council member buried it. And the basic reasoning why. It just doesn’t add up. It had to be someone that was around when I was born. But Gunnvar can’t get the information out of the servants that  _ were _ there and the only person alive who has the information wants to keep the two of us out of it.” She could hear him get up and pace around his room in agitation. “It’s one dead end after another and the only people I can ask are long gone.”

“Well, from the sound of it, she hasn’t found what she’s looking for so she will probably try something else again.”

“I… probably. But it still leaves me with questions. The council has a kill on sight order out to every agent in the region, myself included. Trying to question her would probably get me killed.” The sound of him sitting back down on the bed came over the stone. “I just. Myst… something about this is extremely personal to me and I don’t understand why.”

Myst hesitated before softly suggesting, “Maybe she knew your parents?”

“Most people knew of my father if they didn’t know him directly. But my mother? I’ve only met one person she ever really talked to and that crazy old bat has dementia.”

She sighed, “Well, I wish I could be more help, Sweeting. I’d ask Uncle but I know that’s too shaky a ground to stand on.”

“No, this has been helpful Myst. I honestly just needed to get it out. I can’t really talk to anyone else about this.” He sighed, “But that’s enough about my problems. How was your week?”

“Quite uneventful. We left Tiatha at the farm and I believe she’s agreed to join us on our way back to Cragas. Though I think she’s only doing that to get to know a certain ginger ranger,” Myst let her tone brighten in an effort to cheer him up. “I like her, she’s almost as good at teasing Geoff as you are to me.”

“Huh,” he said, surprised, “Didn’t take Geoff for the type. He always seemed a little too uptight for that. That or he’s a twenty-something-year-old virgin with absolutely no experience but how many of those actually exist?”

“Well he was quite literally raised by wolves from about seven. That’s all I’ll say about it.” she added chuckling.

“Dear gods, he actually is one. Hold on mo chroí, I think I need a moment to collect myself,” he laughed. 

“You didn’t hear it from me, sweeting!” Myst said giggling herself. “I almost wish I could speak with animals, the way Tiatha’s badger, Nessa, chattered at Geoff. Oh boy, the shade of red he turned was absolutely hilarious.”

“Pfft, darker than his hair, I’m sure!” her lover took a moment to get himself under control before continuing. “It’s almost as good as what I’ve been hearing about a dragonborn in your party.”

“Oooh, do share, Sweeting!” 

“I caught Domovoi writing love poetry the other day,” Widukind laughed. “From the look of it, it’s worse than that book you read in front of those toddlers at the library.”

“Oh Gods!” Myst squealed. “I hope I’m there when he tries to serenade her! That will be priceless.”

“Trust me when I say this Myst,” he winced, “You won’t want to be anywhere near it during or after. I have no idea how, but that green bastard has a way with women.”

“Aw, don’t trust me, Sweeting?” she teased.

“I’m only trying to save you from walking in on something you can’t unsee, mo chroí,” he shuddered. “I used to work with that ass near the southern border and Gods do I wish I could just forget half of the nights I spent in camp with him.”

“Hmm, I’ll keep that in mind when he is guarding the estate in a few months.” 

“Anyway…” he said, changing the topic away from the apparent trauma of a loud roommate. “I’m going stir crazy here. I swear if I have to eat one more round of Gunnvar’s flavorless food, I’m going to lose my mind.”

“I take it the cooking skills do not extend to your brother?”

Widukind sighed, “No. He has the same issue as most humans. They think black pepper is fecking over seasoned. I would kill for something with any sort of spice to it right now.”

“You could always ask Dova to send something over,” Myst suggested. “Or do you have to hide your injuries?”

“I’m afraid so. The council wants to keep my agents out of the loop. It would give the wrong image,” he said with a bit of contempt. “It’s not like they haven’t noticed Gunnvar giving them orders directly as of late.”

“Hmm,” Myst sighed in thought. “What if I used my ink to ask her to send something to Gunnvar? Or still too much?”

“Probably,” he said before taking on a teasing tone. “But there is something I’ve been missing lately, other than food I mean.”

Myst blushed even as she attempted to sound coy. “Oh really? What’s that?”

“Not sure. But spending all this time in bed certainly brings up… happy memories.” He said it in a way that made her sure he had on his best smolder.

“You are terrible.”

He laughed just a little, “And you’re blushing.”

“Well,” Myst huffed. “It seems like you’ve found something else to do then. I am not really in a good place to… share in those happy memories.”

He chuckled. “No, but I do enjoy teasing you, mo chroí. You’re adorable when you blush.”

“Hmph,” Myst turned her chin away, almost as if she could feel him looking at her in that way he did. “I hope you realize that you are one of a very small amount of people who can actually make me blush. I really am quite good at hiding it,” she said, even knowing it didn't sound convincing.

“Oh really? Well doesn’t that make me feel special,” he rumbled. “I suppose I’ll have to do it more often then.” She could practically see him smirking at her.

“Keep digging that hole, Mr. Spy,” she growled playfully. “I’ll get my revenge.”

“Oh I hope you do, Myst,” he practically purred. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Now go back to sleep,” she said, trying to pull herself out of a much more pleasing conversation. “If you aren’t fully rested by the time I come back, we won’t be able to try all of your ideas.”

He sighed even as he laughed. “I think that may be the first time anyone has convinced me to do anything so easily, mo chroí. Fine, I’ll get some rest. Just know that I’ll be dreaming of all the things I plan to do to you.”

“Good. And I shall be plotting my revenge,” she smiled dangerously, her voice dropping low even as she teased in a soft lilt, “Good night, Sweeting. Sweet dreams.”

“And to you as well, mo chroí. Good night.”


	33. Fourth Sending Call - Widukind's POV

Widukind was half asleep when he heard Myst’s voice from the stone on his chest. He found he’d been missing the feeling of her next to him in bed and having the item there felt a little like he had a piece of her with him. His run in with that elf had left him tired and anemic as he recovered but he still managed a smile as he said, “Hey. How are you, mo chroí?”

He could hear her smiling and felt relieved that she’d been processing everything he’d told her the week before as she replied. “I’m good, Sweeting. Always better hearing you though.”

He stretched, wincing as the wound pulled at his skin. “That’s good to hear. I’m sorry about last week. I wish I could have told you some other way.”

“It’s alright, I am glad you told me. And I did talk with the others. It helped.” She paused in thought for a moment. “And how are you?”

“Well,” he started, not looking forward to telling her about his current status as an invalid. “I… may or may not be assigned to bed rest for a few weeks.”

He heard her tone shift to that mother bear persona. He always felt a tiny sliver of fear when she did that. “What happened?”

“For starters,” he rushed to explain, “I didn’t go out looking for this one. I swear it wasn’t my fault in the slightest.”

“I know that, Sweeting,” she sighed.

“Good… I just know exactly which face you’re making and I would rather not be on your shit list, mo chroí,” he chuckled nervously. His tone quickly faded to something more serious as he thought about the situation and the bodies it had resulted in. “Do you remember that investigation the council froze me out of?”

“Yes,” she said, waiting for him to continue.

He let out a slow breath, trying to keep himself calm. “Well it started with this elf I ran into on patrol a few weeks ago.” He left out that she had been the one to break his ribs. Myst was unlikely to appreciate that fact and he couldn’t remember if he’d told her the extent of those particular injuries. “She somehow knew of my connection to Gunnvar after taking one good look at me and I asked him to check it out.” 

He ran his hand through his hair in frustration as he thought of how Cornelia had trashed that idea. “One of the council members found out about it and moved to keep both Gunnvar and I out of it. But… that elf broke into the shop a couple of days ago and it... didn’t end well.”

“I assume not if you are on bed rest!” she shouted, growing increasingly alarmed. He was starting to tense up in his own annoyance, but forced himself to relax as he knew she hadn’t meant to sound accusatory. She asked another question before he could say anything else. “And was she pursued for the attack?”

The mixture of her tone and the result of his inadequacy pushed him to anger, but he managed to swallow it down before speaking. “Yes, but the agents were unsuccessful. She killed half a dozen of them before escaping.” He thought back to the young bodies of three fledges the elf woman had killed. Two of them had only arrived in the city a week ago and the other had barely turned sixteen. Pushing aside his rising temper he said “ _ Feck _ Myst, some of them were fledges. I just…” He trailed off, not sure how to put his self-loathing properly into words.

She tried to console him, saying it wasn’t his fault and that she knew the woman would have to have been exceptionally dangerous to get around him in the first place. If it had been under any other context, he might have been proud to hear her say that. But it did little to help him now. She changed the topic back to the elf’s reasons for breaking in and he let out a tired sigh.

“I… thank you, mo chroí,” he said, even if he couldn’t really take her reassurance to heart. Grateful for the distraction he turned to the more pressing issue. “And it looked like she was trying to meet with the old spymaster. No one currently assigned to this region even knew who he was. That’s really not even the most alarming part.” He took a moment to breathe, trying to gather his thoughts. “She knew he had been spymaster Myst. How the feck is that even possible? There’s no records that I know of and the council still won’t let me look into her identity. Something’s not adding up and I fecking hate it.”

“Well,” Myst mused. “I have some theories but I wouldn’t know how likely they might be.”

“Do share,” he said, hoping an outside set of eyes may be able to see something he couldn’t.

He had nearly relaxed when she said “Alright, but you should get some more sleep soon.”

Gods dammit, but he hated being coddled. He knew she hadn’t meant it that way. That she, like most  _ normal _ people, was just worried for his health. But he wasn’t fecking normal, never had been and never would be. And he didn’t know how to feel about that. Between her concern and Gunnvar’s hovering the last few days, he wanted to scream. 

He cut her off instead, schooling himself to his normal, even tone. “Mo chroí, I have been sleeping off and on all day with no one but my idiot brother for company. Trust me when I say I could use  _ something _ productive to do.”

“Well,” Myst began, thankfully unaware of his roiling emotions. “You said she’s an elf so it’s quite possible she’s old enough to have experience with the crows and it was probably years ago when the previous spymaster was in charge. And she may have had high enough access to know who he was and who the Lunahands were. Probably pretty well if she recognized you right off the bat.”

“Sure, but that doesn’t explain the  _ way  _ she looked at me Myst.” He thought back to the woman’s face as the shock of seeing him had hit her. There was something more than recognition there, almost akin to grief. “It was like someone had walked right over her grave. Besides, she fought like a crow. I’ve never met a civilian with that kind of training. And if she were one of us, her mark should have killed her by now for disobedience.”

Myst hummed in thought. “Maybe she’s been on assignment somewhere remote enough to not have gotten news. Surely there’s assignments when agents have to go dark for extended periods.”

“Maybe,” he sighed, “But her tattoo would have still reacted for attacking operatives without clearance. That’s one of the first orders we get out of our exam. And the only thing that can waive it is a majority vote by the council.” He winced again as he shifted. “Either way, she couldn’t be an agent. There’s just no way to remove these damn tattoos without getting yourself killed in the process, and she definitely didn’t have one.” 

Having her lay out what he already knew may have been repetitive but it  _ was _ helpful. It assured him that he wasn’t overthinking things and made his scattered thoughts take on more of a pattern. What she said next though chilled him to the bone as he felt a hint of pain from his mark. “Well, I don’t know. Maybe she found a way-”

“That is not a safe train of thought for me Myst,” he said firmly, getting the tattoo to stop reacting. “Or for you for that matter. Even as the Horthos heir, the council would not hesitate to attack you if they thought you were looking into that,” he warned, desperately trying to stop his mind from picturing the outcome if the council found out about this conversation. “There’s a reason it can’t be removed. If there ever was away, they buried the information so deep that no one will ever find it again.”

He could hear her voice strain in annoyance as she let out a simple “Alright.”

Suddenly he felt a deep and crippling fear that she wouldn’t take the situation as seriously as she should. His already traumatized mind supplied an image of her in council custody and he caved to a moment of weakness, begging her ““Promise me you won’t look into it, mo chroí. We can find a way to make it work, but don’t go looking down that alley.”

She took a moment to let out a breath before saying “Okay, I promise, Widukind. I won’t look.” For a split second, his gut told him she was playing that trick most fey did, only giving a partial truth or oath, but this was  _ Myst _ . He trusted her with his life.  _ Feck _ he  _ loved _ her. Even if he couldn’t admit it to her. He pushed away his worry, chiding himself for his paranoia, before apologizing for his forcefulness before. “I’m sorry. So what was your theory?” 

“Well,” Myst said, grateful for the topic change. “If the council is shutting out some of their most high ranking members of this matter, likely the elf has ties with at least one council member. And If I know nobles, and I do, it’s either a matter they would be ashamed of if it became public or incredibly dangerous to the nation at large. Or both.”

“That’s just it, I know which council member buried it,” he said, thinking of Cornelia. “And the basic reasoning why. It just doesn’t add up. It had to be someone that was around when I was born. But Gunnvar can’t get the information out of the servants that  _ were _ there and the only person alive who has the information wants to keep the two of us out of it.” He got up to pace his room in agitation. “It’s one dead end after another and the only people I can ask are long gone.”

She thought that over a moment before offering “Well, from the sound of it, she hasn’t found what she’s looking for so she will probably try something else again.”

“I… probably. But it still leaves me with questions. The council has a kill on sight order out to every agent in the region, myself included. Trying to question her would probably get me killed.” He sat back down as he started to dizzy a little. “I just. Myst… something about this is extremely personal to me and I don’t understand why.”

Myst hesitated before softly suggesting, “Maybe she knew your parents?”

He sucked in a breath. “Most people knew of my father if they didn’t know him directly. But my mother? I’ve only met one person she ever really talked to and that crazy old bat has dementia.” His thoughts ran back to the Rookery and the night Keeper Tanya had taken pity on a young, hungry version of himself. The woman had already been in her sixties when he was a teenager and her mind had begun to degrade after he’d graduated. 

He’d seen her once or twice since then. Generally when he’d been assigned to escort fledges from the sight to Cragas or Wrord, but he could tell that her memory was failing. Tanya had been the only connection he’d had to his mother and he’d never been able to even ask her for the woman’s name. He’d overheard Augustus and Cornelia arguing about her once, catching the first syllable. But his father had cut the woman off, threatening her should she ever mention his mistress' name again. The result was a tired man who didn’t know his own roots and had too many questions that would never gain answers.

Back in the present, Myst sighed, seemingly frustrated with her perceived inability to assist. “Well, I wish I could be more help, Sweeting. I’d ask Uncle but I know that’s too shaky a ground to stand on.”

“No, this has been helpful Myst,” he assured her. “I honestly just needed to get it out. I can’t really talk to anyone else about this.” He sighed, “But that’s enough about my problems. How was your week?” He could tell that both of them needed a change in topic.

“Quite uneventful. We left Tiatha at the farm and I believe she’s agreed to join us on our way back to Cragas. Though I think she’s only doing that to get to know a certain ginger ranger,” Myst let her tone brighten in an effort to cheer him up. “I like her, she’s almost as good at teasing Geoff as you are to me.”

“Huh,” he said, surprised, “Didn’t take Geoff for the type. He always seemed a little too uptight for that. That or he’s a twenty-something-year-old virgin with absolutely no experience but how many of those actually exist?” He thought back to his first experience when Esborn had all but tossed him into a brothel with a few gold coins for his eighteenth birthday. It certainly wasn’t conventional, but even crows had to gain  _ some _ experience in that field at some point.

Myst chuckled on her end conspiratorially as she said “Well he was quite literally raised by wolves from about seven. That’s all I’ll say about it.” she added chuckling.

“Dear gods, he actually is one. Hold on mo chroí, I think I need a moment to collect myself,” he laughed. 

“You didn’t hear it from me, sweeting!” Myst said giggling herself. “I almost wish I could speak with animals, the way Tiatha’s badger, Nessa, chattered at Geoff. Oh boy, the shade of red he turned was absolutely hilarious.”

“Pfft, darker than his hair, I’m sure!” he all but wheezed before getting control of himself. “It’s almost as good as what I’ve been hearing about a dragonborn in your party.”

“Oooh, do share, Sweeting!” 

“I caught Domovoi writing love poetry the other day,” Widukind laughed, thinking back to his friend trying to entertain him from his bedside. “From the look of it, it’s worse than that book you read in front of those toddlers at the library.”

“Oh Gods!” Myst squealed. “I hope I’m there when he tries to serenade her! That will be priceless.”

“Trust me when I say this Myst,” he winced, “You won’t want to be anywhere near it during or after. I have no idea how, but that green bastard has a way with women.”

“Aw, don’t trust me, Sweeting?” she teased.

He shuddered, remembering an unfortunate time he’d walked in on the dragonborn. He’d never look at ball gags the same way again. “I’m only trying to save you from walking in on something you can’t unsee, mo chroí. I used to work with that ass near the southern border and Gods do I wish I could just forget half of the nights I spent in camp with him.”

“Hmm, I’ll keep that in mind when he is guarding the estate in a few months.” 

“Anyway…” he said, changing the topic away from the trauma of a loud roommate. “I’m going stir crazy here. I swear if I have to eat one more round of Gunnvar’s flavorless food, I’m going to lose my mind.”

“I take it the cooking skills do not extend to your brother?” she asked, making him sigh.

“No. He has the same issue as most humans. They think black pepper is fecking over seasoned. I would kill for something with any sort of spice to it right now.”

“You could always ask Dova to send something over,” Myst suggested. “Or do you have to hide your injuries?”

“I’m afraid so. The council wants to keep my agents out of the loop. It would give the wrong image,” he said with a bit of contempt. “It’s not like they haven’t noticed Gunnvar giving them orders directly as of late.”

“Hmm,” Myst sighed in thought. “What if I used my ink to ask her to send something to Gunnvar? Or still too much?”

“Probably,” he said before taking on a teasing tone. “But there is something I’ve been missing lately, other than food I mean.”

Myst blushed even as she attempted to sound coy. “Oh really? What’s that?”

“Not sure. But spending all this time in bed certainly brings up… happy memories.” He smirked at the thought of flustering her.

“You are terrible.”

He laughed just a little, “And you’re blushing.”

“Well,” Myst huffed. “It seems like you’ve found something else to do then. I am not really in a good place to… share in those happy memories.”

He chuckled. “No, but I do enjoy teasing you, mo chroí. You’re adorable when you blush.”

“Hmph,” she said. He could almost picture her turning her face away to lecture him as she said “I hope you realize that you are one of a very small amount of people who can actually make me blush. I really am quite good at hiding it.” She wasn’t entirely convincing, but he’d let her get away with it just this once.

“Oh really? Well doesn’t that make me feel special,” he rumbled. “I suppose I’ll have to do it more often then.”

“Keep digging that hole, Mr. Spy,” she growled playfully. “I’ll get my revenge.”

“Oh I hope you do, Myst,” he practically purred. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Now go back to sleep,” she said, probably tired of his teasing. “If you aren’t fully rested by the time I come back, we won’t be able to try all of your ideas.”

He sighed even as he laughed, thinking of the reunion he had planned. “I think that may be the first time anyone has convinced me to do anything so easily, mo chroí. Fine, I’ll get some rest. Just know that I’ll be dreaming of all the things I plan to do to you.”

“Good. And I shall be plotting my revenge,” she said, a wicked smile on her voice making him twitch just a little before she took on a gentler tone. “Good night, Sweeting. Sweet dreams.”

“And to you as well, mo chroí. Good night,” he replied, wishing he could kiss her before he let the connection fade. The stone fell back to his chest as he let it go and he lay back in bed, honestly intending to follow her advice, but kept awake with the paradox before him. Who the hell was his attacker. And why did she seem unwilling to kill him? 

She certainly could have after he ripped that knife out of his side. She’d even been unwilling to actually do real damage in their fight, only drawing blood when he continued to attack. To make matters worse, something about her features seemed almost familiar. He pushed his thoughts away and turned to more pleasant ones of his lover, wishing he could just hold her for a few moments before he drifted off to sleep.


	34. 5th Sending Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Order of the Griffon has reached the monastery and found it in ruins from an attack. Myst decides to immediately inform Widukind.

Myst moved to a fair distance and then whispered into the stone, “Widukind?”

She heard a sleepy reply, remembering that he was on bed rest as he said, “Myst? Is everything okay?”

“Yes and no? Sorry to wake you but this is important. I’m fine I promise but, well we just got to the monastery and it had been attacked several weeks ago.”

“Feck,” he cursed, more alert. “Does this need to be a private conversation or should I grab Gunnvar? The idiot is sleeping in my office.”

Myst smiled a little, even given the circumstances, at the thought of the elder brother staying nearby his injured sibling. “If you want to. This concerns Hadrian.”

“Son of a- got it. I’ll get him.” She heard him throw the covers off and call down the shop stairs for the guard captain. “Bráthair! It’s Myst. The monastery was attacked.”

She could hear heavy footsteps run up the stairs and Gunnvar’s voice drift over the stone. It was odd realizing just how similarly the brothers sounded. “Lady Horthos? What happened?”

“Well when we arrived the courtyard was strewn with bodies of the monks and the main door was covered in a strange moss. As we began to investigate we were attacked by one of the corpses, it seemed to be a demon possessing it.”

She heard Widukind and Gunnvar both suck a breath in through their teeth. The younger brother cut her off completely and said “Demons? Are you sure, mo chroí? Not undead?”

“Well it was a spectral creature sort of puppeting the body, it wasn’t affected by Moolan’s turn undead. I don’t know demons or devils but it had to be one of those.”

Gunnvar hummed in thought before saying, “Judging by this moss you described I’d put my coin on demons. Did the moss act as a portal or have a mind of its own?”

“Yes, it attacked anyone who got close and it sort of spit out two goat looking demons that stank like a plague.”

She could hear Widukind swearing up a storm in elvish and vaguely registered Gunnvar saying a warning in the same language. After a few moments Widukind came back on and said, “We’re pretty sure those were from the abyss. The moss was likely an alkilith and those plague demons sound like bulezau. Myst do you even realize how fecking insane this is?”

“I’m sorry to say that’s not the half of the insanity that’s been revealed today.” Myst sighed. 

Gunnvar winced and prompted her to go on.

“After we took care of the demons, Sylben became sort of, overwhelmed by the loss of his master and friends. He became furious and accidentally lashed out and Geoff noticed he had some sort of black scrollwork peaking through from under his skin.”

Gunnvar was the one to cut her off this time. “Shit… I should have known that’s what father meant in his notes.”

She could practically hear Widukind stiffen as he ground out, “Something you’d like to share with the class?”

The older brother took a few deep breaths and said, “Not over sending stone. Gods above, if Denai weren’t dead I’d want to strangle her. Go on Layla. Did you find any other information about the attack?”

“We used speak with dead on the remaining body and it told us the attack happened after they sent Sylben away for his protection and that the demons were ordered by a Lordling. We also got another look at the scrollwork on Sylben and it was in several languages, including sylvan and infernal and others I didn’t know. What I could read talked about waystones, a gate, and a keeper.”

Widukind heard her out taking in a deep breath before he spoke. “That definitely sounds like the shtate in question.  _ Feck _ .” She heard the stone change hands and Gunnvar let out an indignant shout as Widukind’s voice grew further away. “How long do you expect to be at the monastery, Myst?”

“I’m not sure, at least another day. Probably two if we have trouble finding the information we need for Bryseis.”

She heard Gunnvar let out a sigh at whatever her lover was doing before Widukind’s voice filtered back in. “Do you think you can spend a few extra days there? We need boots on the ground to keep the area secure while I take a few agents out that way.”

“We can stay but  _ you _ need to rest, sweeting! I won’t have you overdoing anything.”

Gunnvar stopped her there. “I wouldn’t even try to convince him otherwise, Layla. We’ve had issues with the spymaster there and Widukind  _ is  _ the best at this sort of thing. Even amongst the Crows. I’ll get him patched up before he leaves, but even if you object,  _ I’m _ sending him there.”

Myst sighed, “Alright. We’ll wait for you. I also told Lord Cailan already.”

Gunnvar grunted in acknowledgment. “That makes it easier to explain why I’m sending my spymaster away at the moment. It should make the council more flexible. Widukind, I can’t send any more of the agents here away at the moment so I’m going to request someone else.”

She heard a pregnant pause as Widukind must have been eyeing his brother. “Who were you thinking.”

“You’re not going to like it,” Gunnvar said.

There were a few beats of silence before she heard the younger brother’s voice drop to a dangerous level of calm. “Don’t you fecking say it.”

“She’s the closest one to the area  _ and _ she’s the only one who could keep pace with this sort of thing,” Gunnvar replied.

“That’s lovely, dear brother, but have you considered that she hates my fecking guts?” Widukind ground out. 

“Who is it?” Myst asked, not fully expecting an answer when it came to asking about Crows.

She heard Widukind swear a few more times before he must have thrown up his hand and spat, “You tell her. I’m getting a fecking drink.”

Gunnvar sighed on his end, obviously exhausted. “Her name is Amelia. She has personal issues with Wid for… reasons.”

“Gee, thanks for clearing that up,” she replied, not quite mimicking when Widukind said that to her.

Gunnvar groaned. “Gods, I see why you two get along so well. Just… look. Widukind had a battle partner when he was in Wrord just before he was injured. A job went bad and the partner died. Turns out that man was Amelia’s twin. She’s hated him ever since.”

“I see.” Myst sighed and then tried to lighten the mood. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve played babysitter when two people can’t be around eachother.”

“Good luck,” Gunnvar replied. “Amelia and her brother had an odd way of… communicating. It’s why they were separated in the first place. The council didn’t want the two of them relying on each other too often.” He paused for a moment before dropping his voice lower. “I don’t know for sure what happened on that op. It was before I became guard captain. But Widukind? He came out of it catatonic for months afterward. I’ve seen some horrible things and looked at people who survived them, but I’ve  _ never _ seen something that bad.”

He took a deep breath, trying to clear the air. “Don’t let Amelia catch on to the two of you while you’re there. I don’t trust her not to report him to the council.”

“Alright, I’ll warn the others too. They have taken to teasing me lately. And Gunnvar?” Myst hesitated.

“What is it?” the man asked.

“You can call me Myst when it's between friends. I don’t mind.”

He was silent for a moment. “I’ll keep that in mind Lady Horthos. I’m not in the habit of becoming too familiar with much of anyone.”

“From what I hear about upcoming events,” Myst grinned. “You may have to learn how to manage it.”

She heard Widukind bark out a laugh from a few feet away as the stone changed hands again. “Mo chroí, please take pity on my idiot brother. He was born with a stick up his ass and would likely die if he tried to pull it out.”

“I most certainly was not!” Gunnvar shouted. “Bloody hell. I’m going back to sleep.”

She heard Widukind chuckle to himself as he closed what must have been his bedroom door. He took on a more serious tone and asked “How mad are you at me for doing this?”

Myst sighed after her own laughter and tried to imagine how he looked right now. “I would be madder if you weren’t going to be healed again before you came out.” she replied softly. “I’m always happy to see you but I don’t want you overextending yourself. You should be in bed for longer.”

He sighed tiredly and said, “Look, I’m going to use the Crow teleportation network to get there. With any luck it will only take me a few days on foot after that. Myst I… this is what I do. It’s one of the only things I’m good at. So have a little faith okay?”

“I do, Widukind,” she assured him. “I don’t mean it to sound like I’m doubting you or your abilities. Because I don’t, at all. I guess I’m just a worrier.”

“I… I get it,” she could tell he was running his hand through his hair in frustration. “I’ll likely leave tonight. Don’t worry, I’ll stop by the temple first.”

“Alright, I’ll just be happy to see you, even if I won’t be able to kiss you as soon as I do.” She smiled. “You’ll just have to be assured that I absolutely would, in different company.”

She could hear him smirk over the stone, “Well, with any luck I’ll get there before the other agent. Maybe we’ll have some time to ourselves. Not that a temple full of corpses is conducive to anything.”

“I should hope not, for many reasons.”

“I wasn’t implying anything, mo chroí. Your mind went there first.” He took a moment to have a laugh at her expense.

Myst blushed and muttered, “I just meant the kissing.  _ Your _ mind is the one in the gutter.”

“ _ Sure  _ it is, Myst.” His tone became more somber as his thoughts returned to the other crow that would be joining them. “Just, when Amelia gets there, try not to react to anything she says. She’s… justifiably vindictive. At least in my case.”

“Alright,” she said softly as she filed away all that was said about her for later consideration. 

He sighed. “If you have any questions, now may be the time to ask them mo chroí. I heard Gunnvar telling you some things. I’ll... try to explain if I can.”

“Only if you are ready to tell me, sweeting. It doesn’t sound like something to talk about over the stones.”

“I…” he let out a huff. “Amelia may not give me a choice once I get there. I’ll keep away from the things I’m not ready for. Otherwise, what I told you that first night still stands. Ask away.”

“Well,” Myst hesitated. “How long were you partnered with her brother?”

“About three years,” he replied. “Almost to the day actually.”

“What was he like?”

“Byron? He…” Widukind took a moment to think before sighing again. He sounded… almost like he was thinking back to a better time. “He was a good man. Better than me.”

“A good partner then?” she asked softly, knowing there was more to it.

“I… not exactly…” he winced, catching on to her knowing tone.

“So is his sister a lot like him? When you aren't around I guess.” She tried to lighten the mood a little.

She heard him lay back as he said, “I think she used to be. The two of them… they had this kind of connection. They could always tell how the other was feeling, even miles away. I think…” He paused, letting out a pained sigh. “I think his death broke her.”

“I’ve heard twins are special. I don’t have any siblings but, well I can imagine.” She took on a quiet determination as she added gently, “Whatever happened though, I just don’t think she knows you very well.”

Her words only seemed to frustrate him. “She doesn’t need to Myst. The fact is that my fuck up led to Byron’s death. Losing an arm was honestly just fecking karma.”

Myst frowned as she tried to think of how to word a proper response. “I refuse to think that and I know it doesn’t mean much from somebody who wasn’t there and doesn’t know but from what you said... I don’t think a good man who had been around you for three years would blame you.”

He sighed again, stopping her as he changed the topic. “What else do you want to know?”

“Honestly, I don’t know what to ask.” Myst said, wrapping her arms around herself in frustration. “I-” she sighed.

He let out a deep breath. “I’m… I’m sorry. I know this is a lot and that you don’t have context. Just… Amelia may say some things that most people don’t know. I know you’re good at keeping a straight face, but that damn woman is just as good at reading people as I am.” He sounded frustrated and must have been rubbing his eyes. “Look, I’m going to pack. With any luck, I’ll get there a few days ahead of her and we can talk, okay?”

“Alright,” Myst replied, rapidly trying to think of a happier note to end on. “Be careful, sweeting. If you do get here first, at least I’ll be able to kiss you hello. If you let me.”

His voice softened at that. “I’m always happy to kiss you, mo chroí,” he said, a small smile returning to his voice. “I’ll be there soon.” With that he must have deactivated the stone, as the background noises of the city cut off.

Myst tucked her stone inside her shirt and stood staring into nothing for several long moments before going back to the others to relay the news.


	35. Fifth Sending Call - Widukind's POV

It had only been a day since Myst had talked to him, so when Widukind heard her voice calling his name he startled awake to respond.  “Myst? Is everything okay?”

“Yes and no? Sorry to wake you but this is important,” she said. “I’m fine I promise but, well we just got to the monastery and it had been attacked several weeks ago.”

“Feck,” he cursed, more alert. “Does this need to be a private conversation or should I grab Gunnvar? The idiot is sleeping in my office.”

“If you want to. This concerns Hadrian.”

“Son of a-” he growled, thinking of the bastard. “Got it. I’ll get him.” He threw the blankets off and paced over to the stairs to yell down for his brother. The other man thundered up, just as concerned by the situation as he was, albeit for less personal reasons.

“Lady Horthos?” Gunnvar asked. “What happened?”

The two of them listened closely as she described the desecration of the monks’ bodies. Sucking a breath in as she mentioned that the creatures were likely abyssal in nature the younger brother cut her off completely and said “Demons? Are you sure, mo chroí? Not undead?”

“Well it was a spectral creature sort of puppeting the body, it wasn’t affected by Moolan’s turn undead,” Myst explained. “I don’t know demons or devils but it had to be one of those.”

Gunnvar hummed in thought before saying, “Judging by this moss you described I’d put my coin on demons. Did the moss act as a portal or have a mind of its own?”

“Yes, it attacked anyone who got close and it sort of spit out two goat looking demons that stank like a plague.”

Widukind started swearing up a storm in Elvish. The rough translation was, “If this woman keeps getting into the craziest situations, it’s going to be the fecking death of me.” Gunnvar firmly cut him off with a warning to stay on task, bringing Widukind back to the matter at hand. His brother relayed a bit of the information he knew and Widukind took a deep breath before switching back to common. “We’re pretty sure those were from the abyss. The moss was likely an alkilith and those plague demons sound like bulezau. Myst do you even realize how fecking insane this is?”

“I’m sorry to say that’s not the half of the insanity that’s been revealed today.” Myst sighed. 

Gunnvar winced and prompted her to go on.

“After we took care of the demons, Sylben became sort of, overwhelmed by the loss of his master and friends. He became furious and accidentally lashed out and Geoff noticed he had some sort of black scrollwork peaking through from under his skin.” Widukind noticed that she failed to mention  _ who _ the monk had lashed out at, but let it slide for the moment.

Gunnvar was the one to cut her off this time. “Shit… I should have known that’s what father meant in his notes.”

Widukind shot his brother a steely look. He hated the mention of Augustus on its own, but his lover’s situation made this particular instance more unwelcome than usual. “Something you’d like to share with the class?”

The older brother took a few deep breaths and said, “Not over sending stone. Gods above, if Denai weren’t dead I’d want to strangle her. Go on Layla. Did you find any other information about the attack?”

Her quick reply saved his brother from being questioned further as she said “We used speak with dead on the remaining body and it told us the attack happened after they sent Sylben away for his protection and that the demons were ordered by a Lordling. We also got another look at the scrollwork on Sylben and it was in several languages, including sylvan and infernal and others I didn’t know. What I could read talked about waystones, a gate, and a keeper.”

Widukind heard her out taking in a deep breath before he spoke. “That definitely sounds like the shtate in question.  _ Feck _ .” He shoved the stone into his brother’s hands as he grabbed a shirt and started tugging on his armor. Gunnvar tsked at him, eyeing his injury as Widukind said “How long do you expect to be at the monastery, Myst?”

“I’m not sure, at least another day. Probably two if we have trouble finding the information we need for Bryseis,” she said questioningly.

Gunnvar sighed as Widukind asked “Do you think you can spend a few extra days there? We need boots on the ground to keep the area secure while I take a few agents out that way.”

“We can stay but  _ you _ need to rest, Sweeting! I won’t have you overdoing anything.” Her chiding tone would normally have made his brother laugh at his expense, but Widukind’s eyes narrowed at the stone in annoyance. 

Gunnvar kept the couple from erupting into an argument by stopping Myst from saying more. “I wouldn’t even try to convince him otherwise, Layla. We’ve had issues with the spymaster there and Widukind  _ is  _ the best at this sort of thing. Even amongst the Crows. I’ll get him patched up before he leaves, but even if you object,  _ I’m _ sending him there.”

Myst sighed, “Alright. We’ll wait for you. I also told Lord Cailan already.”

Gunnvar grunted in acknowledgment. “That makes it easier to explain why I’m sending my spymaster away at the moment. It should make the council more flexible. Widukind, I can’t send any more of the agents here away at the moment so I’m going to request someone else.”

Widukind froze, looking at his brother in suspicion. “Who were you thinking?”

Gunnvar winced and said, “You’re not going to like it.”

The younger sibling narrowed his eyes in thought for a moment before he realized just who was going to join him. His voice dropped to a still anger as he said “Don’t you fecking say it.”

“She’s the closest one to the area  _ and _ she’s the only one who could keep pace with this sort of thing,” Gunnvar replied.

“That’s lovely, dear brother, but have you considered that she hates my fecking guts?” Widukind ground out. 

“Who is it?” Myst asked, confused.

Widukind swore, not knowing how to describe the clusterfuck that was about to happen. Giving up he threw up his hand and said “You tell her. I’m getting a fecking drink.”

Widukind heard Gunnvar sigh as he thundered out and down to the kitchen. He poured himself a stiff drink, fuming as he tossed it back and leaned against the counter. Amelia was  _ the last _ person he wanted near Myst and her group. Not only did she have it out for him, but she was the only one who knew about his relationship with Byron and he wasn’t ready to talk to Myst about that yet. He took a few calming breaths before walking back up the stairs to hear Myst teasing Gunnvar about using her formal name.

“You can call me Myst when it's between friends. I don’t mind.”

His brother was silent for a moment. “I’ll keep that in mind Lady Horthos. I’m not in the habit of becoming too familiar with much of anyone.”

“From what I hear about upcoming events,” Myst grinned. “You may have to learn how to manage it.”

Widukind barked out a laugh as he took the stone back. “Mo chroí, please take pity on my idiot brother. He was born with a stick up his ass and would likely die if he tried to pull it out.”

“I most certainly was not!” Gunnvar shouted. “Bloody hell. I’m going back to sleep.”

He chuckled to himself for a moment before remembering why he had needed to walk away in the first place. Closing his bedroom door behind him, he sat on the mattress and asked “How mad are you at me for doing this?”

Myst sighed after her own laughter died off. “I would be madder if you weren’t going to be healed again before you came out.” she replied softly. “I’m always happy to see you but I don’t want you overextending yourself. You should be in bed for longer.”

He sighed tiredly and said, “Look, I’m going to use the Crow teleportation network to get there. With any luck it will only take me a few days on foot after that. Myst I… this is what I do. It’s one of the only things I’m good at. So have a little faith okay?”

“I do, Widukind,” she assured him. “I don’t mean it to sound like I’m doubting you or your abilities. Because I don’t, at all. I guess I’m just a worrier.”

“I… I get it,” he said, running his hand through his hair as he tried to think himself down. “I’ll likely leave tonight. Don’t worry, I’ll stop by the temple first.”

“Alright, I’ll just be happy to see you, even if I won’t be able to kiss you as soon as I do.” She said, a smile tilting her voice. “You’ll just have to be assured that I absolutely would, in different company.”

He smirked a little at that. 

“Well, with any luck I’ll get there before the other agent. Maybe we’ll have some time to ourselves. Not that a temple full of corpses is conducive to anything.”

“I should hope not, for many reasons.”

“I wasn’t implying anything, mo chroí. Your mind went there first.” He took a moment to have a laugh at her expense.

Myst blushed and muttered, “I just meant the kissing.  _ Your _ mind is the one in the gutter.”

“ _ Sure  _ it is, Myst.” His tone became more somber as his thoughts returned to the other crow that would be joining them. “Just, when Amelia gets there, try not to react to anything she says. She’s… justifiably vindictive. At least in my case.”

“Alright,” she said softly as she filed away all that was said about her for later consideration. 

He sighed. “If you have any questions, now may be the time to ask them mo chroí. I heard Gunnvar telling you some things. I’ll... try to explain if I can.”

“Only if you are ready to tell me, sweeting. It doesn’t sound like something to talk about over the stones.”

“I…” he let out a huff. “Amelia may not give me a choice once I get there. I’ll keep away from the things I’m not ready for. Otherwise, what I told you that first night still stands. Ask away.”

“Well,” Myst hesitated. “How long were you partnered with her brother?” He had to suppress the urge to let out a pained sigh. What  _ was  _ it with people cutting to the heart of his problems lately?

“About three years,” he replied. “Almost to the day actually.  
She listened quietly before asking “What was he like?”

“Byron? He…” Widukind trailed off, memories of his husband’s teasing smirk and easy laugh coming to mind. “He was a good man. Better than me.”

“A good partner then?” she asked softly, almost as if she could tell there was more to it. 

“I… not exactly…” he winced.

“So is his sister a lot like him? When you aren't around I guess.” She tried to lighten the mood a little.

He leaned back against the pillows in thought. “I think she used to be. The two of them… they had this kind of connection. They could always tell how the other was feeling, even miles away. I think…” He paused, letting out a pained sigh. “I think his death broke her.”

“I’ve heard twins are special. I don’t have any siblings but, well I can imagine.” She took on a quiet determination as she added gently, “Whatever happened though, I just don’t think she knows you very well.”

Her words managed to hit him in just the wrong way. Amelia had been right to blame him. If the two of them hadn’t been distracted with each other, they would never have been captured. And Byron would still be alive. “She doesn’t need to Myst. The fact is that my fuck up led to Byron’s death. Losing an arm was honestly just fecking karma.”

He could hear her frowning as she said “I refuse to think that and I know it doesn’t mean much from somebody who wasn’t there and doesn’t know but from what you said... I don’t think a good man who had been around you for three years would blame you.”

He sighed again, stopping her as he changed the topic. “What else do you want to know?”

“Honestly, I don’t know what to ask.” Myst said, sounding lost. “I-” she sighed.

He let out a deep breath. “I’m… I’m sorry. I know this is a lot and that you don’t have context. Just… Amelia may say some things that most people don’t know. I know you’re good at keeping a straight face, but that damn woman is just as good at reading people as I am.” He knew he sounded frustrated as he rubbed his eyes. “Look, I’m going to pack. With any luck, I’ll get there a few days ahead of her and we can talk, okay?”

“Alright,” Myst replied as she tried to end on a better note. “Be careful, sweeting. If you do get here first, at least I’ll be able to kiss you hello. If you let me.”

His voice softened at that. “I’m always happy to kiss you, mo chroí,” he said, a small smile returning to his voice. “I’ll be there soon.” With that he deactivated the stone, staring at it silently for a moment before buckling on the rest of his gear. He was just about to walk out the back door when Gunnvar stopped him. 

“Be careful little brother. And take this, it’ll help with the anemia.” The older sibling passed him a vial of some potion or another. “Try to come back in one piece.”

Widukind sighed as he looked back to his half-brother. “I’ll try to make this quick. I know the preparations for your wedding have been… taxing.”

Gunnvar gave him a quick nod. “Safe travels.”

With that, Widukind was out the door and on the way to the rookery. He hadn’t been back in years and couldn’t say he enjoyed the idea now.


	36. Interlude 7

Widukind stepped out of the Rookery teleportation circle as he said goodbye to Cragas for the first time in three years. He’d gotten somewhat used to the city at that point, but quickly adapted back to the tense quiet of his childhood abode. To call the Rookery home would be like calling hell welcoming. The lifeless gray of the stone and the cold winter skies certainly didn’t help matters. 

He buried his discomfort with a sigh and stepped from the room to be greeted by the usual security check. After confirming his identity he was led into the main courtyard and  _ expected _ to be on his way, but was stopped by a keeper before he had the chance.

“Sir, we have a message for you before you go. Your presence has been requested at the training grounds.” The older crow seemed nervous to be around him. It was rare that someone so high up in rank came to the Rookery, even as a means to passing through, and it was likely that his presence and rumored connection to the Lunahand name made everything all the more strenuous. 

He schooled his face to a neutral expression as he passed into the training yard. Half a dozen hatchlings were hard at work in the biting cold as they kept movement more out of a desperate need to keep warm than out of will to excel. No one tried to do well here. He knew from experience that the goal was to only succeed enough not to be noticed. If you had the misfortune of looking like a favorite student, you were just as likely to be brutally punished for a made up infraction as you were as the habitual failure. The only difference was that the favorite student actually had a chance of surviving the encounter. 

The hatchlings were all in worn out rags and footwraps as they were forced around an agility course that would make most acrobats weep. He watched out of the corner of his eye as he walked through and noted which were struggling and which were competent enough to make it through to the next phase of their training. He prayed to whatever gods were listening that he would never be forced to administer lessons in this hell.

Surprisingly he was led to a familiar figure as she sat and watched the child soldiers with grim determination. Tanya was well into her seventies now, ancient by crow standards, and she sat in a wheeled chair made for easy use and old bodies. Her battle braids had gone silvery grey with age and her face held frown lines deep as canyons as her brown eyes surveyed the twisted landscape she called home.

Widukind eyed the old half-elf warily as he took the seat placed next to her. It seemed she was in an increasingly rare moment of clarity as she surveyed the training exercise, something that could be a blessing or a curse depending on the way she viewed it. Losing one’s own mind was hellish.  _ Knowing _ you were losing your mind and being unable to prevent it? That was insurmountable. 

“It’s good to see you’re still sharp as ever boy,” she grunted, scarred face turning his way. “I was worried you would go to waste behind that merchant counter in Cragas.”

He nodded a distant greeting. No matter what he felt towards the old woman, he was never sure who was listening in these halls. “I manage to patrol still. Esborn taught me that much.”

The crone huffed an affirmative. “Good. That one always had a good head on his shoulders too. I dare say he’d be proud of how far his star pupil has come.” She waved off her attendant saying she wished to speak with him for a while and would prefer to care for herself in the interim. It was the closest thing anyone around here could get to a “Fuck off, I would like some privacy” type of statement without immediately being shot in the back. 

“I didn’t ask you here for your company, boy,” she continued. “I have quite a favor to ask. Think of it as me cashing in for  _ that _ incident all those years ago.”

He arched a brow at her, remembering the event in question. “Alright. What is it you’d like me to do?”

She pointed out one of the hatchlings running about. He must have been close to his exam by the look of him. Even for a teenager he was tall and stocky, built like a fighter with short black hair and dark eyes. “That is Samuel,” she huffed. “He’s grown on me the last few years.”

Widukind shot the woman a side eye, wondering where this was going. “Didn’t take you as the type to go soft in your old age.”

He quietly dodged the blow she backhanded his way, noting the way her extended nails sliced through the air with audible pressure. Tanya may have been ancient, but she was still alive for a good fecking reason. Without looking back to the woman he asked “So what about this one is so special?”

She grumbled a bit in Elvish before saying “He has a fecking brain on him, that one. Reminds me of you at his age, only more effective in his execution. I’ve already recommended he be transferred to your care should he survive his trial.”

“And when will that be?” Widukind asked.

“Tonight,” she sniffed. “The boy turns fifteen next week.”

Widukind looked the boy over more thoroughly. Even for a human, the kid had an air of normalcy about him. How he managed to pull that off while backflipping down a length of razor wire was his own business. “Let me guess, you want me to take him on myself.”

“Ha!” the woman laughed dryly, “Good to see you still have a few brain cells left in that skull of yours.”

Widukind thought it over. It would be harder to hide his relationship with Myst if he took on a fledge. He hadn’t had one since he was still an agent and, to his knowledge, that one was well and good away in a different jurisdiction. Every now and again one would get sent to his shop to learn a few things, but taking one on full time? It would be a headache. 

At the same time, he had no legitimate reason to refuse. He was a spymaster with little overt interaction outside of his agents and the council had not levied an impossible task on his shoulders. In fact, it was probably seen as strange that he  _ hadn’t  _ taken on a student in his years as spymaster. Most would have by the second or third year in his position. 

It was a delicate balance to be struck. On the one hand, he had to appear to be performing his duties to the utmost of council expectations. On the other, he had so much more to lose now and bringing a fledge in could put an unwitting life in the balance other than his own. All of these thoughts spun through his head in fractions of a second as he weighed the pros and cons of agreeing. Now that he considered it, there  _ was _ one bit of information that could make it completely worth while.

Myst had brought it back to mind for him after years of pushing the thought to the edge of his consciousness. He still had no idea who his mother was. What she looked like, how she acted, the sound of her voice. Those things were probably out of his reach now and had to have been for a long while. But one little sliver of information remained, taunting him like Tantalus’ grape vine. 

Coming to his decision, he leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Alright, but on one condition.”

Tanya raised her brow at him in a mock replication of his own questioning visage. “Yes?”

“What was my mother’s name?”


	37. Interlude 8

It was strange how one word, a singular sound made up of a jumble of syllables and meaning, could have such a profound effect on him. Widukind couldn’t get it out of his damned head as he hiked toward the monastery.  _ Isandra _ . The answer and origin of all his questions summed up in a name. He didn’t know what he’d expected the knowledge to feel like. A revelation, perhaps? Or maybe it was meant to be some sort of closure? Either way, it fell horridly short of the mark. 

Just knowing his mother’s name stirred up feelings and regrets long neglected by his memory. Flashes of Augustus telling him he looked like “her” with his olive skin and brown curls, recollections of Cornelia’s distaste at their first meeting as she called him “the whore’s son”, looks of pity from Gwyllen as the former spymaster shook his head about “the Valkyrie” and her fall from grace. Had he known that his mother had earned such a moniker, he would have put more weight to the old man’s utterances. 

Tanya had kept him for an hour as she told him about the woman he should have been so familiar with. She was a warrior, a hunter, a monster, a killer, a spy. But she was also calm and collected with mystifying, predatory grace and a silver tongue according to the old crone. The image all of these experiences painted as they bled together gave him a daunting picture of a woman fierce enough to control her own fate but shackled by the misfortune of her own birth. 

He learned that her body had never been found. That she was assumed dead after three weeks of failing to return because  _ no one _ could survive that long without answering an order. Cornelia and the council had sent her in search of something ancient and powerful to be used as a weapon against Prowend’s enemies. But they had failed to warn her that her mission entailed the wrath of beings far beyond anyone’s reach.

The old crow had not elaborated on that, leaving him wishing for more but understanding that her mind could not fill the gaps in its memory. It was worth taking that boy on... even if he was slowing Widukind down exponentially as they traversed the mountains near the monastery.

“Sir!” Samuel called, panting as he raced to keep up. “I don’t understand why we had to leave immediately. You said there was already a party securing the location.”

Widukind sighed, wishing he could just hurry up and get to the damn temple already. “The party there is not beholden to the council. They’re an independent militia that serves directly under the Queen.”

The boy looked confused. “But those are pretty rare,” he said. “Why are they all the way out here?”

Widukind rubbed his eyes, sitting on a tree stump near their path. “Kid, has anyone ever told you that having the exact right information can get you killed?”

“I- no sir” he replied. “I should think much the opposite.”

_ Great, one of those _ , he thought, suppressing a groan. “Look, this group has its own reasons for securing the area. I have a contact among them that tends to give accurate information and has brought a large, credible threat to the council’s attention. They don’t have the same resources we do but  _ we _ are bogged down by procedures they don’t have to care about.”

“I… see.” The kid reached up to rub his neck, catching himself before he could scratch at the still healing tattoo he’d gotten days before. “Who’s the contact?”

Widukind just sighed, shaking his head as he stood to continue their walk. “No one you need worry about. Now let’s get moving, I would rather make it to this fecking monastery before summer solstice.”

He almost felt guilty as the fledge lined up behind him. Myst was  _ not _ expecting him to arrive with company and he knew she had been looking forward to some quality time. Fecking gods he needed a nap. He looked over his shoulder with a sigh. The kid was in a fragile state now and he wasn’t helping matters. It was added icing on the cake that Samuel would likely be considered guilty by association when Widukind was inevitably caught for his indiscretions with Myst.

“Come up here kid,” he said with a shake of his head. The fledge scrambled to comply, probably unsure of what boundaries his tattoo actually had yet. 

“Yes sir?” he said, waiting for orders in an almost fearful fashion.

Widukind had to suppress another sigh. He was going to need to teach the kid how to have some spine. “No more of that. Call me by my name or, if that’s too informal for you, use my cover. Gods know we’ll be seeing enough of each other over the next few years.”

“A-alright… Mister Fallenshot,” Samuel stuttered. “If… if that’s what you’d like.”

Widukind sighed again. “Look, Samuel, you have  _ got _ to grow some backbone here. I don’t know how much time they spent beating you into compliance as a hatch, but-”

“Sam, sir,” the kid interjected, making Widukind raise a brow. “Only Mistress Tanya calls me Samuel.”

Widukind huffed at that, amused. “Alright Sam. There’s something you need to know about me before we get down to brass tacks.” He waited for the kid to nod in acknowledgment before continuing. “I’m not like the keepers. I don’t require total subservience and I sure as  _ hell _ don’t need you to butter up my ego.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” the kid replied confused. “Aren’t I supposed to follow your orders?”

“The mark sees to that, kid,” Widukind said. “We’ll work on your ability to use it to its full potential when we head back to Cragas. But for now, you need to learn how to push its limits. Whether you know it or not, apprenticing under me puts a massive target on your back. There are agents, assets, and council members who are all out to put me six feet under. If you don’t learn how to keep your head up you’ll be dead in a year.”

“If you think I’m not up to it, why did you take me on?” Sam asked, beginning to feel more comfortable conversing with his new mentor.

“Never said that,” Widukind replied. “Tanya says you are and I trust her judgment. What I  _ am _ saying is that there’s a sharp learning curve. If I were you, I would figure out how and when to push against my orders.” 

The look of shock on the boy’s face was priceless. It was probably the first time in his life that anyone had condoned telling the system to go fuck itself. “What if I push at the wrong time?” the kid asked.

“Then I’ll let you know. I get the feeling that that won’t be much of an issue though.” Widukind looked over at Sam in thought. “I’ve been told I’m a stoic bastard but you seem in tune with your surroundings well enough. Just keep your eyes and ears open. Oh, and one last thing,” he said with a wince. “Learn how to avoid being placed in a position where you know too much. There is plenty of shite I do that would get me a one-way ticket to hell if the council knew about it. It’s best that you maintain plausible deniability.”

He continued on a few more steps before he looked back, realizing that the kid had frozen in his tracks. “W-what do you mean?”

Widukind sighed as he thought about his lover and everything he would do to keep her safe and happy despite it being a death sentence looming over his head. “Some rules, you can’t help but break.”

With that he turned towards the climb they had ahead of them. If they pushed through the night, they’d be at the monastery by dawn and gods knew he needed to see her if he was going to stay sane. He let a small smile slip while Sam was still out of eyeshot. No matter how difficult it would be to see her after this, he was just happy that he would get to sneak a few moments with her before diving back into his duties.


	38. Memorial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Widukind arrives at the monastery, a new Fledge in tow, he and Myst manage to sneak away for a heart to heart.

Widukind huffed as he got back to Myst’s room at the monastery. That monk had pissed him off with his antics and he was still simmering beneath the surface as he unbuckled his armor for the evening. He knew that Myst was likely to join him soon so he sat back as he thought about the situation. Sam seemed to have finally loosened up after catching sight of the automaton that Rusty had made. Weird little goblin, that one. He’d have to look into finding a way for the kid to learn more about artifice after getting to the city. He was still mulling it over when Myst came into the room, smiling softly at him. 

“Hello, sweeting,” She said as she took off her outer coat and placed it over the back of the small chair in the room. Myst walked over to sit beside him on the bed and gave him a gentle kiss.

He hummed into her lips, soothed by the contact after craving her presence for weeks. “Hey. Sorry for being so inattentive when I got here. That kid was asking a thousand questions a minute on the way up.”

Myst smiled, amused at the image. “It’s no problem, you did warn me beforehand. Wasn’t expecting the teenager in tow but I think he’s kind of adorable.”

Widukind snorted. “You  _ would  _ think a fifteen-year-old assassin is cute,” he teased.

“Hence his nickname, at least to me, from here on out is ‘Grizzly’,” Myst explained as she reached down to slip off her boots. “I already know a Sam and this is just simpler to me.”

He shook his head with a grin. “Of  _ course _ it is,” he chuckled. His eyes traced her form as she leaned over, admiring the way she moved. Before she had fully straightened back up, he shifted behind her to place a soft kiss on the back of her neck. “In any case, I missed you.”

Myst smiled and turned to kiss him over her shoulder. “I missed you too, sweeting.” She gave him an assessing look. He looked a little pale but seemed otherwise his normal self, if just a bit tired. Myst bit her lip a little to hold back her instinctual motherly tendencies, remembering their last sending call. “It seems,” she ventured. “That you had as interesting a time back there as we did on the road.”

He sighed, leaning back against the wall. “Unfortunately. That elf was certainly a handful.”

“Mhmm,” she hummed as she turned to look at him. “You said you were injured. Where?”

He looked over to her softly, knowing that she was trying to be mindful of his feelings on the matter. With a sigh he lifted his shirt, revealing the long, narrow scar beneath one of his ribs. Even with the extra healing he’d received it was still red and angry, not having fully formed over the skin. “I’d say I’ve had worse, but I know you hate it when I do that,” he frowned. 

Myst sighed and gently touched the skin below the scar. “I do, but I also realized after the past few sending calls that I do the same thing sometimes.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m trying to keep that in mind for the future.”

He dropped his shirt to trace his hand behind her neck, pulling her into a soft kiss. “Looks like the both of us have some work to do,” he whispered before he pulled her into his chest. He seemed to struggle with something before he took a deep breath. “It… may have been worse than I’d told you at first.”

She tensed in his arms. “How bad?” she whispered.

“I’m lucky that Domovoi found me as soon as he did. Let’s... leave it at that,” he said, rubbing her arm. “I don’t know if you realize it but I promised myself I wouldn’t lie to you Myst. Not since you found out the truth. About me and what I do, I mean.”

“I had an inkling of it,” she replied as she tilted her chin up to look at him. “I appreciate it. I am trying to do the same, if you couldn’t tell already. Though I am an open book to you, as we’ve established.” She smiled and kissed his neck comfortingly.

He gave her a tired smile before bending down to meet her lips. When he pulled back he rested his forehead on hers, eyes closing in contentment. He took a deep breath through his nose, letting her scent wash over him as he prepared to tell her something he’d been thinking about for a while. “I know on that first night I told you I would answer anything you asked, except for one question. Do you remember that?”

She nodded, waiting for him to continue.

With another deep breath he pulled away just enough to look her in the eyes and said “I think… I’m ready to talk about that now. If you want to know.”

Myst looked into his eyes and, seeing the strength and conviction in them, she nodded again. “I’ll listen. Whatever you are ready to say.”

Widukind ran his hand up and down her arm, closing his eyes as he prepared himself. “I was in my early twenties. Byron and I were sent to the bleed after an archfey named Direnetal of the Frost,” he took a deep breath, swallowing as the sound of that name tried to shoot a cold chill down his spine. “We had known each other a few years before that and had… gotten closer than we should have…” He looked at her waiting for her reaction.

Myst was silent and attentive as she hugged him lightly around his chest in comfort and nodding slightly in understanding.

He began to run his hand up and down her back, thankful for the weight of her against him as it grounded him to the present. “The reason Amelia blames me for what happened… Byron and I had exchanged vows in secret the night before we left. She thinks that we were too wrapped up in each other to suspect that something was closing in.” He squeezed her gently to him as he swallowed. “She may have been right. I’m not sure. But the fey caught us trying to track him. It-” he broke off, feeling a near suffocating weight in the center of his chest and a tear fall down his cheek. 

Myst reached up to cup his cheek, wiping the tear away gently. “It’s okay if it’s too much, sweeting.”

He shook his head. “No. I- I need to say it. I haven’t had the chance to tell anyone until now.” He took a deep breath, steadying himself and looking away from her as he continued. “We thought the fey would just kill us, but we’d miscalculated. He was a high ranking member of the winter court and known for… cruelty. Something about our tattoos fascinated him and he tinkered with the magic, trying to replicate it I think.”

Myst continued to watch him as she returned her hand to its place across his chest. She tried to convey as much safety and comfort as she could in her little movements as she asked softly, “Did he?”

Widukind sighed. “No. But he learned to control them. And he- he gave Byron an order that he refused.” He clenched his hand as he let go of her arm and held it against her skin, head bowing low. “If I hadn’t been there, he may have survived. Or at least stood a chance. But I don’t think he could have with me in the mix.”

Myst sat up and looked at him with a firm stare. “Widukind, it wasn’t your fault,” she said firmly, even as she knew he wouldn’t believe her. “I know it doesn’t mean much coming from me but neither of you could have predicted that.”

He looked up at her with blue eyes full of grief. “Logically, I know that Myst. But the order he gave? He told Byron to kill me. And that idiot man was far too good to save his own skin.” He looked away from her again. “He died screaming. I- it still wakes me up in the middle of the night. I know there was nothing I could’ve done. I was already badly injured. But… if he hadn’t had to resist an order like that he may have been able to escape.”

Myst looked at him, her own grief welling in her chest leaving her unsure how to comfort him. “I’m sorry, Widukind,” she said. “But it doesn’t sound like either of you would have survived if you had been alone.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a shaky breath. “Maybe. It’s hard to tell.” He reached to take her hand in his, lacing their fingers. “After he died, I took the sending stone we’d used. The same one you have now. And I ran. I barely made it back across the border before I collapsed. My arm… it was bad. The infection was starting to spread and a local surgeon managed to save the rest of me by removing it. I know Gunnvar told you something about how I was, but I honestly don’t remember anything for months after I woke up. Not until Amelia showed up screaming for answers.”

He looked down at the mattress trying to organize his thoughts. “When you were hurt at the landing ceremony, I was so afraid that something like that was happening all over again. That I was about to lose you.” He looked up into her eyes. “I know I overreacted after. I’m sorry. But the only thing I could think about was keeping you safe.”

She shook her head and squeezed his hand in hers. “It’s alright, sweeting. I think I would have reacted in a very similar way, honestly.” She looked a little rueful as she added with a sigh. “I think we are a little too alike in many ways, good and bad.”

He reached up to cup her cheek. “Both of us are complete idiots,” he sighed before kissing her head. He ran his thumb across her freckles and gave her a sad smile. “But gods, am I thankful I have you.”

“Indeed,” she hummed as she nuzzled into his hand. “Perhaps in time, between the two of us we’ll have enough brain cells to actually be useful,” she joked.

He chuckled as he kissed her lips, a hint of a real smile starting to form. “You are already plenty useful, mo chroí. How I managed to find someone as smart and graceful as you will forever baffle me.”

“I told you I like your scars, sweeting,” Myst smirked playfully. She pursed her lips briefly in thought. “But your cooking is what sold me I think.”

“Oh? I thought the saying about food being the way to someone’s heart was reserved for men. Was I wrong?” he teased. “Or is it your hopeless inability to resist my other charms?”

Myst shrugged. “Perhaps it’s all of the above.”

“Well,” he smirked as he leaned in close to whisper in her ear. “At least I know a few things you enjoy otherwise.” With that he playfully nipped her neck before looking back to her, obviously exhausted. “Why don’t we try to sleep. I promise I’ll make breakfast in the morning. If you’re lucky, the rest of the order won’t be able to steal it all before you wake.”

“Hmm, I can work with that,” she said as they arranged themselves as best as they could on the single bed. When they were settled properly Myst softly traced patterns across his chest and started humming an old lullaby.


	39. Heartbeat

Myst was humming her mother’s old lullaby as Widukind fell asleep. What he had told her about Byron and him had been incredibly emotionally draining on them and she worried that bringing it up might prompt one of those nightmares he said he still would get from time to time. The old song also helped ease her own fears brought on by her dream of the Summer Lady the night before. She was relieved that Geoff had thought of such a brilliant plan just in time. Now they truly had a justifiable reason to go to Wrord instead of trying to get to Asnar before Hadrian who was already ahead of them.

As the familiar words and rhythm settled her nerves she found herself listening to Widukind’s heartbeat. The way it pulsed so calmly in his sleep was an additional comfort and as the lullaby finished she found herself humming randomly in a way that matched the steady beat. A wisp of a tune began to formulate in her mind and she did her best to memorize the harmony though her own emotional exhaustion was little help. When she felt she had a good grasp of the right notes to start with she couldn’t resist the comforting pull of sleep. Her last thought for the night was,  _ Perhaps I can write some more of it down when I get back home. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lullaby that Myst sings, the one that her mother always sang when she was scared as a little girl, is Noble Maiden Fair from Brave. In this world Elvish is Gaelic and even though Myst doesn't understand the words, she knows it by heart.


	40. Tales of the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the second night of Widukind staying at Sylben's monastery with the Order of the Griffin and his young fledge, Sam, he and Myst arrange some private time outside under the stars.

Myst had set up her dome along the edge of the courtyard at the monastery after dinner and after the sun had set. She sat, deep in thought, in the center of the dome looking up at the sky which was covered in the full array of stars and constellations. Thankfully, the magic of the dome kept her warm and cozy even as the winter chill began to set in around her. She felt herself being pulled back into very old memories of her parent’s bedtime stories when she heard Widukind’s soft voice just outside the dome.

“Mo chroí? Can I come in?” he asked.

Myst smiled. “Of course, sweeting.”

She watched as he stepped through the barrier which was a pale and opaque pearlish color on the outside and quite invisible from the inside. Widukind sat beside her after looking around for the eager and curious teenager.

Eventually assured that Sam was not nearby, he asked, “What are you thinking, Myst?”

“I was just, remembering some things I hadn’t thought about in a while.” She could feel his curiosity even as he didn’t want to push her. Myst smiled at him to assure him the memories were more sweet than bitter. “When I was little and traveling with my parents in their caravan, we’d look at the stars and pappa would tell me stories about the constellations. Not just sylvan ones but tales from all over Prowend.” She looked up at the stars as she remembered those far away nights of laying in their wagon with her parents on either side of her, pointing out each constellation. “I loved those stories. There aren't any stars in the feywild.”

She felt Widukind’s arm wrap around her shoulders as he kissed her head. “Will you tell me one?” he asked and she could feel the rumble of his voice through his chest.

Myst turned her chin up so she could kiss his lips. “Always, sweeting. I may not remember all the details but I’m sure we can improvise.”

They shifted so they both were laying down on the blankets that Myst had still brought with her to ward against the cold, Rhea curled up by Myst’s other side and Myst held Widukind’s hand in hers. She began by pointing at a cluster of stars and describing a story of two men fighting for the hand of a beautiful fey maiden and how in some variations the men were the personifications of day and night. There was another story for a constellation resembling a bird and that she described as a trickster crow who sneaked into a god’s home and stole fire for the people of the material plane. On and on her stories went, some funny, some melancholy, eventually telling ones she had heard in her travels with Dax in his caravan. Widukind, however, was lost in the stars in her eyes and the joy in her voice of sharing the memories.

Some unknown time later, Myst sighed and looked over to Widukind only to find him sleeping at her side, a soft smile on his lips. Myst kissed his forehead and then gently woke him up so they could retreat to the more secure warmth of the monastery room. When they fell properly asleep, Myst dreamt of traveling with her parents in their caravan and the stories told around campfires and the soft lullabies of her mother.


	41. Light Reading

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finishing her own research on the art of acting, Myst catches Geoff attempting to research the art of dating. Unfortunately the only available materials in the monk library are trashy smutty romance novels. After informing him of the futility reading smut for advice, she retires to her room for the afternoon with a book herself. For the amusement if nothing else.

Myst retreated to her temporary room with the novel she had taken, still smiling in amusement at Geoff’s fumbling research. It actually reminded her of her own attempts to figure out dating as a teenage girl. She settled back on the bed and opened up  _ Taming the Bard _ , which she had actually read years ago after finding it in a bookshop at the Emporium as a teenager. It was a pleasant way to pass an hour or two until Widukind came into the room looking drained only to freeze when he saw what she was doing.

He softly closed the door behind him before smirking at her with a bit of heat in his eyes. “You know, mo chroí, if you were bored you could have just let me know.” His eyes dragged their way across her form. “I always have a few ideas for how to keep you occupied.”

Myst smiled sultrily. “I don’t want to keep distracting you from your work mode. It’s a very sexy look for you.”

“Oh really?” he said, grinning in a way he knew would send shivers down her spine. 

She nodded. “This book is so horribly written though, it’s more amusing than anything at this point. Though as a teenager I thought it was far more useful than it is.”

He chuckled. “Well,” he said, walking over to take it out of her hand as he sat beside her. “I’ll just take your word on that.” He kissed her forehead before placing a gentle one on her lips. “For now, I’m just happy to be with you. Teenage cockblock aside.”

“Indeed,” Myst chuckled. “At least he’s easy to distract, what with a talking cow and a giant mechanical construct around.” She slid a hand up his neck to lightly brush his hair. “And how can I distract you? I do have a copy of some of those special poems in my bag.”

He hummed as he leaned into her hand, melting into her touch as she carded her fingers through his hair. “I was thinking of something a little more… involved.”

“Mhmm,” Myst softly rumbled in return, looking him up and down. “I believe you’ve mentioned something about ideas for our reunion? Perhaps a preview then?”

“And spoil the surprise?” he teased. “Now why would I do that?” he asked as he leaned forward to nip at her pulse.

Myst struggled to maintain some coherency even as she melted under his attention. “Because it’s been nearly two months, and I missed you terribly.”  
“Oh? Was that why you sent that teasing little message of yours?” he chuckled.

“Well,” she said coyly. “I want you to have good dreams when I’m not there. Isn’t it better to have a reliable distraction?”

He pulled away from her neck to raise a brow at her. “Oh it was distracting, alright. Horribly so.”

Myst hummed as she kissed his neck in a trail from his pulse to his jawline. “Tell me. Perhaps I can make it up to you.”

He gave her a devilish grin before tangling his fingers in her hair to pull her up into a heated kiss. “You’re the one that’s good with words, Myst. I’ve always been better at showing.”

“Perhaps a compromise then?” Myst said as she played with one of the buckles on his armor. “You show and I’ll talk all you want.”

“Careful, mo chroí,” he rumbled. “Last I checked we need to keep it down and I may just take that kind of invitation too seriously.”

Myst pouted, “Sweeting, please?”

He chuckled before starting to unbuckle the armor on his chest. “Alright. Since you asked so nicely.”


	42. Amelia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelia arrives at the monastery, putting Widukind on edge and sending the Order on their way.

Widukind woke before Myst in the pre-dawn light to the feeling of Myst in his arms. He smiled into her hair, laying a soft kiss on her head before quietly removing himself from her arms. He made sure to lay another blanket over her before going, knowing that she would not enjoy waking up to the chill that haunted the mountain air, and took his pack with him as he contemplated the risk of Amelia arriving that day. 

He took the opportunity to climb up to the monastery roof and enjoy the quiet morning after stashing his things in the room next door. He looked out over the mountain landscape, noting how serene it was when he heard Sam shuffle up several dozen feet away. “Morning, kid,” he said without turning to face him. 

Sam delicately picked his way over to the spymaster, unsure of how to respond or address the man. “Morning Sir,” he finally said, sitting down. The fledge looked around. “It looks a lot like the Rookery in the morning.”

Widukind shrugged. “I’d say you were getting homesick, but I doubt you ever thought that way about that damned place.” He looked over at the boy. “How are you handling the change?”

The human pressed his lips together in thought, his young face betraying little after a lifetime of training. “I’m not sure. My exam was… hard. But the last few days have been nice.” He looked around not just the scenic view before them, but down into the courtyard below. “Are all people like the Order? I feel like they’re more chaotic than the keepers described.”

Widukind snorted. “Feck no. Bryseis and Moolan are completely insane. Geoff has few social graces and Xion is a tad bookish. I don’t know much about Rusty, but Sylben is currently on my shit list for… reasons. The Order is an odd collection of misfits that just happened to click well.”

Sam looked at his mentor, taking the information in. “Then what about Mistress Layla? You didn’t mention her.”

Widukind kept his face neutral to keep the kid from catching on to anything that would put the fledge in danger. “She’s a noble, but nobles from Wrord are slightly different from the rest. They tend to be more reasonable merchant folk.”

“I see,” the kid said, nodding. “She’s nice. I like her.”

Widukind’s lips twitched in a barely concealed smirk. “Yeah, she is.” His eyes swept over the mountain again, enjoying the silence until he spotted a small figure working its way up. “Feck,” he groaned as he recognized Amelia’s form. “It looks like our colleague is arriving this morning. Do yourself a favor kid,” he said looking at Sam. “Don’t say anything to her unless she speaks to you directly. Amelia is likely to be a raging bitch while I’m around.” With that he leapt down from the roof and paced through the monastery halls to the front yard. 

Amelia looked much like her brother had in life. She had rich brown hair and grey eyes over suntanned skin. Her slightly pointed ears framed her braid as the sharpness of her eyes conveyed little outside of an intimidating gaze and her heart shaped face was held with her chin high, making her the image of confidence. Her time in the bleed had left her with a few small scars, few of which were visible due to her well fitted armor and underlying cloth wraps. Her bow was strung and hung across her back and her shortsword and daggers belied a woman who knew her way around a battlefield.

Widukind waited patiently for her to clear the steps, his own body language conveying a guarded confidence and stubborn resilience. Sam stood just slightly behind him, fidgeting nervously with a small knife in his hand. Amelia took them both in, eyes impassive as she assessed them both. Her face grew increasingly hard as she met Widukind’s eyes, lips pressing together in a thin line. 

“Widukind,” she said, an unmistakable malice in her tone.

He raised a brow back. “Amelia. Kind of you to join us.”

“I was three weeks into the Bleed, you’re lucky I came so quickly,” she ground out, tossing her braid back over her shoulder. “Not all of us sit on our hands in Cragas day in and day out.”

His eyes narrowed. “Pardon me, I didn’t realize waltzing around with fey qualified as actual work. I’m so glad you deemed fit to take time out of your  _ busy _ schedule to attend to matters of national security.”

Her eyes blazed with barely contained anger. “I wouldn’t have to run around if you’d done your job all those years ago. I’m sure my dear brother would agree if he was still with us.”

The mention of Byron made Widukind want to rush the woman. He bit down on his grief and guilt before he could do something he would regret. Before he could reply, he heard the order members begin to join him. Myst and Sylben came first, the monk trying to greet the new arrival before she practically bit his head off. 

Widukind let the monk handle the conversation out of some amount of leftover resentment from their earlier discussion. He sent Sam to keep an eye on the woman as he hung back to sneak by Myst and squeeze her hand, shooting her a brief smile. He squared his shoulders as he continued on, preparing himself for the next few weeks with a trying individual.


	43. Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Widukind and Sam investigate the events at the monastery.

Widukind collapsed on the meager cot as he returned to his room at the monastery. It had been three days since Myst and the Order had left and they’d been too damn long. Amelia had been busting his balls the entire time she’d been on the damn mountain and not a thing was to her liking. 

He felt a headache forming behind his eyes and desperately closed them, hoping to avoid a migraine. Unfortunately, life had other plans. He heard a knock at his door followed by Sam saying, “Sir? May I come in?”

With a wince, Widukind sat up, thankful that he’d kept his armor on. “Yeah kid. What d’ya need?”

The fledge eased in, seeing his mentor was beyond exhausted. “Sorry Mister Fallenshot. Miss Amelia ordered me to come tell you she’d be leaving in the morning. The council contacted her and wants her back on her last assignment.”

Widukind’s shoulders slumped in relief. “At least you’re bringing me some good news, Sam. This fecking investigation has me missing my sanity.”

The kid stepped the rest of his way into the room, giving the older crow a watchful eye. “She really doesn’t seem to like you Sir. Did something happen between the two of you?”

The half-elf sighed. “Yeah, but let’s not dwell on that,” he said, shaking his head. “Do me a favor and repeat back our findings so far.”

The teenager nodded. “Hadrian DeMors entered the monastery approximately a month and a half ago accompanied by a strange servant who never showed his face and never accessed the archives. DeMors looked specifically at the available records on waystones and something called The Gate before he hit a snag and requested access to restricted materials. At first he was pleasant when the prior archivist and master rejected his request, but became increasingly adamant in finding a way to access this information. What the exact nature of the information was is now unclear as Master Denai purged it from the archives during an attack on the monastery.”

“And the attack in question?” Widukind prompted.

“Started by DeMors and, more accurately, his servant. The unknown man spent much of his time on his own and was rarely seen outside of his rooms when not attending DeMors. Some journals found in various rooms indicate that the man had an odd and intimidating air about him that set the monks and any nearby animals on edge. On visiting these rooms, we found that there was a summoning circle carved into the stone that would have opened up to the Abyssal plane. It’s unclear just how many demons came forward, but it’s likely that the ones vanquished by the order were only a small fraction of their number.”

Widukind looked Sam in the eye with his next question, testing his student’s capabilities just as Esborn had him over a decade before. “And what do you think is the aim of DeMors, the identity of this servant, and their actual relationship to each other?”

The fledge blinked. “Excuse me, Sir?”

He kept his tone even, trying to encourage the boy to speak his mind. “I have my theories, now tell me yours.”

The boy pursed his lips in thought for a moment as he began to pace. “Well, I don’t think that the servant and master relationship adds up. Some of the journal entries indicate that DeMors seemed to fear or respect this figure far more than a noble usually would his staff.”

“Good. And?” Widukind nodded.

“ _ And _ ,” the kid breathed out, seemingly about to take a risk, “I think that they were more tenuous allies than actual partners. It seems like the figure has broad knowledge of the arcane that DeMors doesn’t have access to. Why come to a monastery just to spend a few weeks carving a summoning circle? Either he wanted to find a very specific item and leave no trace of it, or he didn’t care if the monastery was left standing in the first place.”

Widukind arched a brow. “Getting there kid. Except that doesn’t explain why he and DeMors are traveling together. There should be some other form of connection based on mutual necessity.”

Sam’s eyes darted back and forth as he organized his thoughts. “Then maybe DeMors was only after the waystone information while this figure was after whatever else was removed from the archive.”

The crow nodded. “There you go. There has to be something in that information that is vital to the situation. Until we can confirm its contents, we’ll be left out in the cold.”

“And the only ones who could have told us are dead or long out of reach,” Sam said. “How are we supposed to work with that?”

“Well,” Widukind said with a grimace as he paced over to his pack. He pulled out a few small bags that would be just big enough to stuff a cantaloupe in. “First, we need a way to communicate with those dead. Fortunately, there are two untouched corpses including the archivists ripe for the picking.”

The boy looked nauseous. “You mean… we have to take their heads?”

“I wish we could do it another way, kid,” he sighed. “After we get them back to Cragas, we have clerics who can look into things for us there. While we’re waiting on them to get us results we can work our contacts in and around the other temples to see if they have any idea. The one in Tront is supposed to have  _ some _ kind of information. Whether or not they actually share it is another story.”

“I… think I understand, Sir,” Sam gulped. “But what do we do about this temple? Do we just leave it?”

“I’ve been informed that we’re clear to go. A small collection of monks will be here within the week and we’ve collected as much evidence as we can.” He nodded towards a bag of holding on the ground that they’d been using. “We’ll toss the heads in there for the trip and let the monks take care of their own affairs.”

“Oh, okay.” Sam said, seeming to sigh with relief as he realized he wouldn’t have to carry around a dismembered skull. “So we just head back to the Rookery and teleport to the city?”

Widukind sighed. “Not exactly. You were unconscious when we left for a reason kid. No one outside of a select few knows the place’s exact location. We walk to Ambermeadow, grab a few horses and ride to Smoothebell. We can teleport from there.”

Sam looked at him curiously. “Th-that’s great sir, but… I’ve never ridden a horse.”

Widukind blinked in surprise before he face-palmed. “ _ Of course _ they didn’t teach you how. Gods dammit.” This was going to be a long couple of weeks. 


	44. Visiting the Grave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Order of the Griffin has arrived at the Horthos Estate in Wrord, reuniting Myst with her adoptive family for a few nights before they head to the Wyld Court Labyrinth where they can find an old waystone to use for their own uses. Myst plays a prank on her older adoptive brother Sam Jenkins, a guard for the estate, and reunites with her uncle Lord Cailan Horthos and her aunt Bema the Head Housekeeper. They have a pleasant dinner together catching up and then Myst has a private conversation about her secret relation ship with Widukind, which her uncle has discovered through his merchant connections. WiduMyst has not been subtle as they probably should have been (in other words, Myst shouldn't have gone dancing publicly with Widukind). He expresses his concerns about the dangers facing both of them but hints at his possible approval of her beau. The next day, Cailan and Myst plan to visit Flynn's grave, to finally say goodbye.

Myst met Cailan wearing a black dress that morning. The old man stood in the parlor, sipping slowly on a cup of coffee as he looked out the window over the grounds. Noticing her arrival he turned to give her a tired smile. “Good morning my dear. I hope you slept well?”

“I did actually,” she replied. “It’s nice to be home again, even if it's just a visit.”

He nodded. “Yes. It’s good to have you. I only… I only wish…” he cut off with a sigh, running his hand over his eyes. Trying to hide his heavy heart he straightened his spine and asked “Shall we be off? He’s in the family cemetery through the woods.”

Myst nodded and linked her arm with his, squeezing it comfortingly as they left the house and headed for the path through the woods. It was hard to know what to say along the way and she found herself looking around at the grounds she had grown up running around on. Old memories of childhood play and the arguments and pranks that came with it.

Breaking the silence, Cailan looked down at her and said, “You’ve grown up quite a bit since you’ve left.”

Myst smiled up at him. “I had to. Dax doesn’t accept layabout nobles who need to be waited on hand and foot in his caravan. I learned a lot as quickly as possible.”

Her adoptive father chuckled. “That he doesn’t. I remember when my father first sent me off with the man. I thought he would tar and feather me on the first day.”

“All that swearing!” Myst shook her head. “Silly to think of how scandalizing I thought it was at the time. Now I think halfling swears are probably the best ones, though elvish are a close second.”

“Oh?” he said, catching a tender look flit across her face. “I take it the spymaster has been treating you well?”

“Very well, actually.” Myst blushed slightly as she raised her chin primly.

Cailan nodded. “Good. I’ve worked with the man on occasion. He’s quite skilled and has a good head on his shoulders. Though I didn’t take him for the type to… well…”

“Defy orders?”

Cailan scoffed. “That is not what I meant at all! I met him a few times when he was stationed in Wrord. Even as a boy that man was a spitfire. No,” he shook his head. “I meant I was surprised to find out he’d fallen for you. He’s quite the guarded individual.”

Myst nodded in agreement. “On the outside sure… Wait, you knew him when he was a boy?”

The old man grinned. “The former spymaster of this region and I were close friends when he took a certain young half-elf under his tutelage. He had quite the temper on him as a teenager. Though he did calm down,” he frowned at the thought. “That wasn’t until after his injury though.”

“It was… a very difficult time for him,” Myst said, remembering his story in the room at the monastery. “Still, I think he is an excellent spymaster in Cragas. And I say that without any bias.”

Cailan nodded. “Oh I agree with you. If I could trade him for the ineffectual dolt the council chose to replace Esborn with, I would in a heartbeat. But it seems we’ve arrived,” he said, his steps slowing as they reached the end of the path.

Stretched out before Myst was the Horthos Family Graves. Members of the house and their servants had been buried here for generations leading all the way back to the first founding of Prowend before the Asnarian invasion. It’s high, wrought iron fences surrounded the tombs and protected their charges from unwanted visitors. Cailan led her through the plots until they reached the mausoleum that she had visited with Flynn on the anniversary of his mother’s death every year and paused as he reached out to open the door, hand unsure.

“Forgive me my dear,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t think I would be back here so… so soon.”

“It’s alright, Uncle.” Myst put her hand on his shoulder comfortingly. “I didn’t either. You don’t have to come down with me.”

He shook his head. “No. I must. His grave needs tending and I haven’t visited Selina in too long.” He took a deep breath and reached forward to open the heavy door, lighting a torch as he entered.

They walked down several steps before seeing the stone caskets laid out in the cold, dry air of the tomb. One had been carved lovingly into the likeness of the late Lady Horthos who had died in childbirth while the other bore the face of someone Myst had been much more familiar with in life. Cailan stood to the side, allowing her to take her time.

Myst walked forward to stare down at the stone face of her former fiancé in silence. It wasn’t a perfect likeness, as nothing really could be, but it was finely made. The scar on his chin from falling off his horse when he was first learning to ride, and the one on his nose from a childish scrap they had gotten into her second summer were not included in the work. Not that it was necessary for the solemnity of the coffin. Besides, she remembered them even to this day. Staring down at the coffin left her with a tangled web of emotions too complicated to name. Grief, of course, but also a nostalgic twirl of happiness and sadness of a love and childhood innocence gone forever.

“I know it's been nearly three years already,” she said softly, the cool air of the tomb suppressing her voice to a whisper. “But I finally feel… relieved as well as sad. Knowing that he’s actually resting here now.”

Cailan came up to rest a hand on her shoulder. “I understand. It didn’t feel right with an empty grave.” He moved to place that same hand on the stone coffin’s chest, looking on with a sad smile. “I think he can rest easy now. Knowing that he’s home and we’re both safe.”

Myst nodded before reaching under the collar of her black blouse for the letter she always kept there. It was the last letter Flynn had ever given her, full of love and plans for their future. Staring at it now, she realized it had chained her as much as comforted in the years since his death. She kissed the folded paper gently before placing it on the chest of the stone knight. “Thank you, Flynn,” she whispered, her hands shaking. “For being nothing but your truest self, and for your love. You’ve saved my life and I’ll always love you.”

As Cailan led her away, she felt a warm breeze uncharacteristic of the winter season wrap around her like a loving embrace and could swear that she heard their song playing on the wind.


	45. The Music Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The music room at the Horthos Estate has been perhaps one of the most important places of Myst's life, not just because of all the happy memories but because of the devastating ones as well. Facing the bad as well as the good is an important step for her.

Myst met Cailan wearing a black dress that morning. The old man stood in the parlor, sipping slowly on a cup of coffee as he looked out the window over the grounds. Noticing her arrival he turned to give her a tired smile. “Good morning my dear. I hope you slept well?”

“I did actually,” she replied. “It’s nice to be home again, even if it's just a visit.”

He nodded. “Yes. It’s good to have you. I only… I only wish…” he cut off with a sigh, running his hand over his eyes. Trying to hide his heavy heart he straightened his spine and asked “Shall we be off? He’s in the family cemetery through the woods.”

Myst nodded and linked her arm with his, squeezing it comfortingly as they left the house and headed for the path through the woods. It was hard to know what to say along the way and she found herself looking around at the grounds she had grown up running around on. Old memories of childhood play and the arguments and pranks that came with it.

Breaking the silence, Cailan looked down at her and said, “You’ve grown up quite a bit since you’ve left.”

Myst smiled up at him. “I had to. Dax doesn’t accept layabout nobles who need to be waited on hand and foot in his caravan. I learned a lot as quickly as possible.”

Her adoptive father chuckled. “That he doesn’t. I remember when my father first sent me off with the man. I thought he would tar and feather me on the first day.”

“All that swearing!” Myst shook her head. “Silly to think of how scandalizing I thought it was at the time. Now I think halfling swears are probably the best ones, though elvish are a close second.”

“Oh?” he said, catching a tender look flit across her face. “I take it the spymaster has been treating you well?”

“Very well, actually.” Myst blushed slightly as she raised her chin primly.

Cailan nodded. “Good. I’ve worked with the man on occasion. He’s quite skilled and has a good head on his shoulders. Though I didn’t take him for the type to… well…”

“Defy orders?”

Cailan scoffed. “That is not what I meant at all! I met him a few times when he was stationed in Wrord. Even as a boy that man was a spitfire. No,” he shook his head. “I meant I was surprised to find out he’d fallen for you. He’s quite the guarded individual.”

Myst nodded in agreement. “On the outside sure… Wait, you knew him when he was a boy?”

The old man grinned. “The former spymaster of this region and I were close friends when he took a certain young half-elf under his tutelage. He had quite the temper on him as a teenager. Though he did calm down,” he frowned at the thought. “That wasn’t until after his injury though.”

“It was… a very difficult time for him,” Myst said, remembering his story in the room at the monastery. “Still, I think he is an excellent spymaster in Cragas. And I say that without any bias.”

Cailan nodded. “Oh I agree with you. If I could trade him for the ineffectual dolt the council chose to replace Esborn with, I would in a heartbeat. But it seems we’ve arrived,” he said, his steps slowing as they reached the end of the path.

Stretched out before Myst was the Horthos Family Graves. Members of the house and their servants had been buried here for generations leading all the way back to the first founding of Prowend before the Asnarian invasion. It’s high, wrought iron fences surrounded the tombs and protected their charges from unwanted visitors. Cailan led her through the plots until they reached the mausoleum that she had visited with Flynn on the anniversary of his mother’s death every year and paused as he reached out to open the door, hand unsure.

“Forgive me my dear,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t think I would be back here so… so soon.”

“It’s alright, Uncle.” Myst put her hand on his shoulder comfortingly. “I didn’t either. You don’t have to come down with me.”

He shook his head. “No. I must. His grave needs tending and I haven’t visited Selina in too long.” He took a deep breath and reached forward to open the heavy door, lighting a torch as he entered.

They walked down several steps before seeing the stone caskets laid out in the cold, dry air of the tomb. One had been carved lovingly into the likeness of the late Lady Horthos who had died in childbirth while the other bore the face of someone Myst had been much more familiar with in life. Cailan stood to the side, allowing her to take her time.

Myst walked forward to stare down at the stone face of her former fiance in silence. It wasn’t a perfect likeness, as nothing really could be, but it was finely made. The scar on his chin from falling off his horse when he was first learning to ride, and the one on his nose from a childish scrap they had gotten into her second summer were not included in the work. Not that it was necessary for the solemnity of the coffin. Besides, she remembered them even to this day. Staring down at the coffin left her with a tangled web of emotions too complicated to name. Grief, of course, but also a nostalgic twirl of happiness and sadness of a love and childhood innocence gone forever.

“I know it's been nearly three years already,” she said softly, the cool air of the tomb suppressing her voice to a whisper. “But I finally feel… relieved as well as sad. Knowing that he’s actually resting here now.”

Cailan came up to rest a hand on her shoulder. “I understand. It didn’t feel right with an empty grave.” He moved to place that same hand on the stone coffin’s chest, looking on with a sad smile. “I think he can rest easy now. Knowing that he’s home and we’re both safe.”

Myst nodded before reaching under the collar of her black blouse for the letter she always kept there. It was the last letter Flynn had ever given her, full of love and plans for their future. Staring at it now, she realized it had chained her as much as comforted in the years since his death. She kissed the folded paper gently before placing it on the chest of the stone knight. “Thank you, Flynn,” she whispered, her hands shaking. “For being nothing but your truest self, and for your love. You’ve saved my life and I’ll always love you.”

As Cailan led her away, she felt a warm breeze uncharacteristic of the winter season wrap around her like a loving embrace and could swear that she heard their song playing on the wind.


	46. A Mother Always Knows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myst chats with her Aunt and tries not to say too much. But it seems like the cat's already out of the bag.

Myst and Bemma sat in the head housekeeper’s personal sitting room with tea and a tray of buttery scones on a table between them. Myst was busily relating some of the Order’s lighthearted shenanigans and her aunt was watching her with the proper indulgence and amusement. As the young changeling talked about some of the people she’d met in Cragas, the elven matron narrowed her eyes slightly and interrupted her with a smile.

“That reminds me,” she said. “Your letter mentioned a particular… attachment you’d made in Cragas.”

If Myst hadn’t been raised by the mature mother and guardian of many children, she might have gotten away with hiding her blush. “U-uncle told you about that part?”

“Of course he did, you know what he’s like.” Bemma chuckled as Myst facepalmed. “Alright spill it out, sweetheart.”

Myst seemed hesitant even as she blushed and started drawing random designs on the coffee table as her blush spread across her freckled cheeks. “Well, he’s very handsome and he’s a lot of fun. Somehow he has found the perfect ways to tease me, almost from the beginning.”

“So who is he? What does he do?”

“He’s a shopkeeper, he used to be in the army but is retired. He’s a half-elf.”

Bemma raised an eyebrow at her not at all subtle evasions. “But what’s his name?”  
“I-I’m sorry, Auntie,” Myst replied worriedly. “But I can’t say it. It’s… complicated.”

Bemma raised both eyebrows in surprise. "So you're serious about him?" She asked softly, already knowing the answer.

Myst's face softened and her eyes turned distant. "I am." She sighed. "I wasn't looking for it. I honestly didn't think I could feel like this after Flynn. When I met him in his shop I just thought it would be fun to flirt. And it was, but what surprised me the most was how… easy it was. He came to my performance at a local inn and I could feel him watching me and I felt…" she sighed again at the memory, at a loss to describe that pinned in place feeling. “Every time I met with him I just felt absolutely safe, like I could tell him anything and he would still look at me like that.

"And then we were forced into the Feywild and as scary as that was," Myst leaned forward and stared into her teacup between her hands. "What I found myself worried about the most was how much time would have passed on the material plane. I worried that he would have moved on from our flirtation and found someone else, and then I would have to be okay with that."

Bemma watched her adoptive daughter fondly, feeling a lump in her throat as she could tell how deep Myst's feelings were even as she continued explaining her thought process.

"Then when we came back after six months had passed here," Myst rushed forward, running her hand through her hair. "I went into his shop and he was so  _ relieved _ ! He didn't care that I sort of unloaded a bunch of information on him, he was just happy to see me back. I was surprised and relieved and I just felt so  _ safe _ with him!"

Bemma reached silently across the table to pat her hand comfortingly. 

Myst smiled and blushed as she said quietly, "I wasn't looking for it. I just thought it would be a fun flirtation but, I think I was a goner almost from the get-go."

"He must be a very special man to catch you." Bemma said fondly. "You couldn't fall for just anybody. Can he cook?"

Myst's eyes brightened with excitement. "He's an incredible cook, auntie! Self taught too!"

Bemma nodded sagely. "Good, gods know you can't be trusted with a stove. We never could get rid of the burn marks from the first time you tried to make pancakes.”

The young changeling woman groaned in embarrassment and buried her face in her hands. “Please forget about that! Gods, I was only ten! If he hears about it I will be banished from the kitchen entirely!”

“You mean he hasn’t already?” Bemma laughed.

“I have limited myself to breakfasts with him.” Myst raised a hand solemnly. “He takes a lot of pride in his kitchen skills, if I ever try to cook anything else it would end very badly.” She shuddered as if imagining the fear of a cook coming from her boyfriend.

Bemma laughed, “Oh, we both know I have far worse dirt on you, sweetheart.” The elf woman smiled wickedly. “As the probable mother-in-law, I have plenty to tell.”

Myst turned completely red as she pleaded, “Please don’t, Auntie!! It’s bad enough that Uncle will never let me hear the end of it! Don’t tell those kinds of stories please!”

“Well I have to meet him first, determine if he’s good enough for you before he can hear the worst antics of the little changeling Mistress Layla.” Bemma said proudly as she poured them more tea. “You only unlock those if you are truly worth the trouble.”

Even in the midst of her embarrassment Myst muttered. “He is, auntie.”


End file.
